MEGRO  TALES 


FTER 


University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


6  O 


NEGRO    TALES 


a    i 


Frontispiece. 


NEGRO  TALES 


BY 
JOSEPH    S.    COTTER 


NEW  YORK 

THE   COSMOPOLITAN  PRESS 
1912 


'  COPYRIGHT,  1911,  BY 
THK  COSMOPOLITAN  PRESS 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The  Author       7 

Caleb       9 

Rodney 23 

Tesney,  The  Deceived 35 

Regnan's  Anniversary 50 

"Kotchin'De  Nines" 62 

A  Town  Sketch 67 

The  Stump  of  a  Cigar 74 

A  Rustic  Comedy 81 

The  Jackal  and  the  Lion 103 

The  King's  Shoes       no 

How  Mr.  Rabbit  Secures  a  Pretty  Wife  and  Rich 

Father-in-Law 127 

The  Little  Boy  and  Mister  Dark 133 

Observation 138 

The  Boy  and  the  Ideal 141 

The  Negro  and  the  Automobile 144 

Faith  in  the  White  Folks 146 

The  Cane  and  the  Umbrella  ....  148 


THE  AUTHOR 

The  Author  is  one  of  a  race  that  has  given 
scarcely  anything  of  literature  to  the  world.  His 
modest  tender  of  some  Christmas  verses  to  me 
led  to  an  inquiry  which  revealed  his  story  of  un 
pretentious  but  earnest  and  conscientious  toil. 
He  is  wholly  self-taught  in  English  literature  and 
composition.  The  obstacles  which  he  has  sur 
mounted  were  undreamed  of  by  Burns  and  other 
sons  of  song  who  struggled  up  from  poverty,  ob 
scurity,  and  ignorance  to  glory. 

Joseph  Seamon  Cotter  was  born  in  Nelson 
County,  Kentucky,  in  1861,  but  has  spent  prac 
tically  all  his  life  in  Louisville.  He  had  the  scan 
tiest  opportunity  for  schooling  in  childhood, 
though  he  could  read  before  he  was  four  years 
old.  He  was  put  to  work  early,  and  from  his 
eighth  to  his  twenty-fourth  year  earned  his  living 
by  the  roughest  and  hardest  labor,  first  in  a  brick 
yard,  then  in  a  distillery,  and  finally  as  a  team 
ster.  At  twenty-two  his  scholarship  was  so  lim 
ited  that  when  he  entered  the  first  one  of  Louis 
ville's  night  schools  for  colored  pupils  he  had  to 


8  THE   AUTHOR 

begin  in  the  primary  department.  His  industry 
and  capacity  were  so  great  that  at  the  end  of  two 
sessions  of  five  months  each  he  began  to  teach. 
He  has  persevered  in  his  calling,  educating  him 
self  while  at  work,  and  is  now  Principal  of  the 
Tenth  Ward  Colored  School,  at  Thirteenth  and 
Green  streets.  The  man  whose  advice  and  en 
couragement  at  the  beginning  chiefly  enabled  him 
to  accomplish  this  was  Prof.  W.  T.  Peyton,  a 
well-known  colored  educator  of  this  city,  whom 
he  regards  as  his  greatest  benefactor. — THOMAS 
G.  W  ATKINS,  Financial  Editor  Louisville  Courier- 
Journal. 


NEGRO  TALES 


CALEB 

Patsy  and  Benjamin,  her  husband,  were  talking 
about  iheir  first  and  second  weddings,  and  of 
Caleb,  their  son.  They  were  also  thinking  of 
Rahab,  Caleb's  teacher. 

"We  have  been  blessed  in  the  number  of  our 
weddings,"  said  she. 

"Yes;  but  cursed  in  Caleb,"  he  replied. 

"Our  last  wedding,  as  free  people,  was  not 
equal  to  the  first  as  slaves." 

"That  was  because  Caleb  came  in  between." 

"How  many  ex-slaves  have  considered  the  sig 
nificance  of  these  second  weddings?" 

"How  many  fathers  and  mothers  have  been 
cursed  by  only  sons?" 

Caleb  entered  the  room  as  his  father  uttered 
these  words,  and  struck  him  violently  over  the 
heart.  The  old  man  straightened  up,  gasped 
spasmodically,  clutched  at  his  breast  wildly,  and 

9 


io  NEGRO   TALES 

then  fell  heavily  to  the  floor.  Caleb,  with  a  part 
ing  sneer,  left  the  room,  while  Patsy  ran  to  the 
aid  of  her  husband.  She  turned  him  on  his  back, 
opened  his  shirt  at  the  neck,  but  her  efforts  were 
of  no  avail.  Benjamin  was  dead. 

Patsy  did  not  report  Caleb  for  the  murder  of 
his  father,  but  went  on  thinking  her  own  theology 
and  asking  Rahab  to  explain. 

UA  thirty-dollar  coffin?  No,  no,  undertaker! 
A  five-dollar  robe?  No,  no,  undertaker!  Four 
carriages?  No,  no,  undertaker!  Think  you  the 
living  have  no  rights?  Cold,  rigid  dignity  will 
suffice  the  dead,  but  the  living  must  have  money. 
He  was  my  father,  and  I  am  his  heir;  therefore, 
speedy  forgetfulness  for  the  one  and  luxury  for 
the  other.  Five  hundred  dollars  are  upon  his 
life.  As  four  hundred  and  fifty  slip  through  my 
fingers  I'll  remember  I  owe  him  something  for 
dying  a  pauper.  Twenty  dollars  will  keep  Patsy 
chewing  starch;  and  you,  undertaker,  may  have 
the  rest,  and  the  thanks  of  science  for  your  serv 
ices.  Why  gaze  upon  the  dead?  Think  you 
how  you  can  make  it  twenty?  At  twenty?  At 
twenty,  you  say?  Cigars,  cigars,  ten  dollars  for 
cigars.  You  can't?  Out!  Out!  Out!  Offend 
not  the  living  by  pitying  the  dead." 

Caleb  thus  addressed  the  undertaker  while 
gazing  upon  the  dead  body  of  his  father. 

As  the  undertaker  left  the  room  Patsy  hobbled 


CALEB  ii 

in  upon  her  crutches,  sat  close  to  the  corpse  and 
sobbed  aloud. 

"Why  those  tears,  old  woman?"  asked  Caleb. 

"Where  is  your  heart,  Caleb,  my  boy?" 

"In  the  twenty  dollars  you  hold  in  your  hand. 
Disgrace,  and  disgrace,  and  ever  disgrace!  The 
old  man  was  a  boaster  in  life  and  a  pauper  in 
death.  Now  you  would  spend  for  starch  what  I 
should  spend  for  cigars.  No  more  disgrace  for 
the  family,  old  woman.  Eschew  starch,  bless  your 
son,  and  hie  you  to  the  washtub." 

He  took  the  money  and  arranged  it  in  the  shape 
of  a  cigar. 

Patsy  looked  lovingly  at  Caleb,  and  consid 
ered  Rahab's  offer  to  preach  Benjamin's  funeral 
sermon. 

On  the  day  of  Benjamin's  funeral  Rahab  was 
present.  Patsy  gave  him  a  chair  close  to  the  cof 
fin.  The  people  were  so  seated  that  egress  was 
impossible. 

Leaning  upon  her  crutches  and  gazing  straight 
into  Rahab's  face,  Patsy  gave  out,  and  the  people 
sang:  "A  charge  to  keep  I  have,  a  God  to 
glorify." 

Rahab  looked  at  the  corpse;  and,  seeing  a  ser 
mon  in  the  cold,  rigid  form,  turned  and  looked 
at  Patsy.  "Beware  of  the  immediate  future," 
said  she. 

Rahab   trembled,   stammered  something,   and 


12  NEGRO   TALES 

looked  at  the  ceiling.  Patsy  brought  her  crutch 
in  close  proximity  to  his  head. 

Said  she,  keeping  her  crutch  in  motion  and  her 
eye  in  Rahab's :  "Words  of  the  dead  to  the  dead 
avail  little.  Were  it  not  for  your  presence  there 
would  be  no  funeral  sermon.  The  man  in  the 
coffin  is  not  dead,  but  sleeping.  Why  should  we 
disturb  his  slumbers?  You  have  just  life  enough 
to  hear  your  doom.  Why  should  we  not  pro 
nounce  it?" 

Rahab  started  to  rise.  Patsy  moved  her 
crutch,  and  the  people  sang:  'That  awful  day 
will  surely  come." 

Rahab  dropped  back  into  his  seat  and  looked 
wildly  around  the  room. 

Patsy  laid  her  hand  gently  upon  his  shoulder 
and  said:  "Rahab,  Benjamin's  blood  is  in  part 
upon  your  hands.  Caleb  believed  you  when  you 
said  that  God  would  curse  him.  After  seeing 
your  crimes  he  believed  that  God  had  cursed  both. 
To  be  cursed,  he  thinks,  gives  the  right  to  curse. 
Rahab,  the  Master  is  waiting  and  calling." 

"He  is  waiting,"  said  Rahab ;  "but  not  to  bless." 

The  people  sang:  "While  the  lamp  holds  out 
to  burn  the  vilest  sinner  may  return." 

Rahab  raised  himself  up  with  difficulty  and 
pitched  forward  upon  the  floor. 

"Rahab,  what  do  you  see?"  asked  Patsy. 

"I  see  Caleb's  undoing  between  me  and  the 


CALEB  13 

New  Jerusalem.  Fool  was  I.  I  won  his  confi 
dence,  and  led  him  to  believe  false  doctrine.  God, 
pardon  Caleb.  I  sinned  in  his  sight  and  laughed 
at  his  virtue.  Damn  not  Caleb,  O  God,  but  me.'1 

Rahab  ceased  to  speak  and  was  carried  out. 
His  last  words  were:  "Damn  not  Caleb,  O  God, 
but  me." 

Some  said  he  died  of  excitement;  others  said  it 
was  of  pure  consciousness  of  guilt. 

A  few-  weeks  passed.  The  night  was  cold,  and 
Patsy  was  dying.  Caleb  sat  in  a  corner  of  the 
room.  In  his  mouth  was  a  lighted  cigar.  At  his 
feet  was  a  split-covered  box,  from  which  came  a 
sound  that  was  music  to  his  ears. 

On  a  similar  night  about  a  year  before  Patsy 
cried  out  pitifully:  "My  baby,  my  Caleb,  per 
dition,  perdition!"  She  had  sprung  forward,  as 
though  about  to  clutch  something,  and  had  struck 
her  head  against  the  stove,  inflicting  an  ugly 
wound. 

"It  was  all  a  dream,"  she  afterwards  said. 
"Methought  my  Caleb  was  a  babe  again.  I 
pressed  him  to  my  heart  and  crooned  one  of  those 
nonsensical  baby  ditties  so  old,  yet  so  sweet  to 
the  mother's  heart.  When  he  said  'Dad,'  'Dad,' 
I  held  him  up  and  kissed  his  chin,  mouth,  nose, 
eyes,  and  forehead.  I  looked  five  years  ahead 
and  saw  him  clinging  to  my  dress  while  I  gathered 
roses  for  his  brow.  I  looked  ten  years  ahead 


i4  NEGRO   TALES 

and  saw  him  among  his  schoolmates,  contending 
for  the  mastery  in  sports  and  studies.  Again  I 
looked  and  saw  him  a  man  of  thirty,  I,  bent  and 
gray,  leaning  upon  his  arm,  receiving  the  confi 
dence  of  the  wise,  the  respect  of  the  just.  Time, 
the  robber,  would  steal  my  angel.  I  held  him 
up  and  kissed  his  hands  and  feet  over  and  over. 
I  fell  asleep.  When  I  awoke  my  baby  was  lying 
upon  the  floor.  Thinking  it  was  hurt,  I  screamed : 
'My  baby.'  Straightway  it  turned  into  Caleb, 
the  man,  and  I  called:  'My  Caleb!'  A  flame  of 
fire  sprang  up  and  began  to  circle  him  round. 
Then  it  was  I  cried:  'Perdition,  perdition!'  and 
sprang  to  help  him.  This  ugly  wound  on  my 
head  will  be  my  death;  but  Caleb,  Caleb!" 

The  night  was  cold,  and  Patsy  was  dying. 
Caleb  sat  in  a  corner  of  the  room.  In  one  hand 
was  the  stump  of  a  cigar.  In  the  other  was  a 
chicken,  still  making  the  sound  that  was  music 
to  his  ears.  When  Patsy's  groans  disturbed  him 
he  moved  the  empty  box  with  his  feet. 

"Old  woman,"  said  he,  "I  have  stolen  a 
chicken.  Will  you  be  my  guest  ?" 

"Caleb,"  groaned  Patsy,  "you  should  not 
steal." 

His  answer  was:  "Old  woman,  you  should  not 
meddle." 

"Caleb,  have  you  seen  my  chicken?"  asked  a 
voice  without. 


CALEB  15 

"Would  you  disgrace  your  mother  in  death?" 
asked  Patsy,  with  great  effort. 

"Would  you  starve  me  in  life?"  was  Caleb's 
reply. 

"My  chicken,  my  chicken!"  roared  the  voice 
without. 

"It  is  fat  and  tender,"  chuckled  Caleb. 

Patsy's  last  words  on  earth  were:  "May  the 
Lord  forgive  my  Caleb." 

Caleb  fell  asleep  and  left  his  mother  to  die 
alone.  Her  death-struggle  covered  several  hours. 
She  raised  herself  upon  her  pillow,  so  that  her 
last  glance  might  rest  upon  Caleb.  His  loud 
snoring  was  music  to  her  dying  ears.  She  clapped 
her  hands  feebly  to  awaken  him,  but  he  snored 
the  more,  and  mumbled  something  about  chicken. 
The  end  came  with  a  little  choking  in  the  throat 
and  a  slight  movement  of  the  head  to  the  left. 

As  Patsy  lay  cold  in  death  Caleb  had  a  pleas 
ant  dream.  He  dreamed  that  she  was  well  and 
at  the  washtub.  He  thought  he  held  in  his  hand 
money  she  had  drawn  in  advance  for  him.  When 
he  awoke  the  next  morning  and  found  it  was  but  a 
dream  he  lighted  the  stump  of  a  cigar;  and,  be 
tween  puffs,  mumbled  something  about  starch- 
eating  mothers  and  dignified  sons.  When  a 
neighbor  called  to  see  what  Patsy  would  have  for 
breakfast,  he  said:  "Ask  the  old  woman." 

"She  is  dead,"  cried  the  neighbor. 


1 6  NEGRO   TALES 

"Then  bury  her,"  said  he. 

The  next  day  Noah,  the  father  of  Melviny,  the 
grave-digger  for  the  poor,  said:  "Melviny,  my 
child,  I  go  to  dig  poor  Patsy's  grave." 

"Poor  Caleb!"  said  Melviny,  and  covered  her 
face  with  her  apron. 

Noah's  hands  fell  to  his  side,  leaving  the  spade 
dangling  about  his  neck. 

"Melviny!"  he  shouted  fiercely. 

"Father?"  she  answered  soberly. 

"Why  your  thought  of  Caleb?" 

"Why  your  interest  in  Patsy?" 

"She  is  dead,  child." 

"So  is  Caleb,  father."  Melviny  dropped  her 
apron  and  began  to  toy  with  the  spade.  "Dear 
father,  you  are  kind  to  the  neighbors." 

"Dear  child,  you  are  making  your  own  per 
dition." 

"Where  go  you,  father?" 

"I  go  to  bury  Patsy  in  the  potter's  field." 

"I  go  to  bury  Caleb  in  my  affections,  that  he 
may  be  resurrected  a  man." 

Noah  kissed  his  daughter  three  times. 

"The  first,"  said  he,  "is  for  your  mother,  who 


was  a  wise  woman." 


"In  marrying  you,  father?  I  never  heard  her 
say  so  in  her  curtain  lectures.  Why  didn't  you 
say  she  was  a  brave  woman?" 

"Don't  be  frivolous,  child." 


CALEB  17 

"Cling  to  facts,  father.  Remember,  you  will 
soon  be  on  the  brink  of  the  grave." 

"The  second  is  for  your  innocence/'  said  he, 
kissing  her  again.  "The  third — the  third " 

"Is  for  what,  father?  Say  it's  to  encourage 
Caleb  in  his  wooing.  Say  it,  father." 

"  'Tis  my  dying  kiss — my  curse.  Go!  When 
he  drags  you  to  want  and  death,  you  will  see  how 
foolish  you  have  been." 

"When  I  lift  him  to  honor  and  life  the  world 
will  see  how  wise  and  heroic  I  have  been.  That 
extra  kiss,  father?" 

Noah  looked  puzzled. 

"I  see  it  now,  father.  That's  to  commend  my 
heroism.  You  would  say  so  in  words,  but  you 
are  a  bit  too  human  at  present.  Poor  Patsy  is  to 
be  buried  in  a  pauper's  grave;  poor  Caleb  in  my 
affections.  Your  task  is  noble.  No  parting  word 
for  me?  None?  I  go  not  alone." 

"You  go  not  alone,  for  the  fires  of  tribulation 
go  with  you,"  said  Noah,  and  shouldered  his 
spade. 

As  Noah  crossed  the  bridge  leading  to  the  pot 
ter's  field  he  met  Caleb. 

"Hello,  old  graybeard!"  This  was  Caleb's 
salutation.  "I  jilted  the  cobbler's  Mary  for  your 
Melviny.  A  mess  of  perdition  she  is.  You  have 
the  honor  of  burying  my  mother;  I  would  have 
the  pleasure  of  marrying  your  daughter.  'Tis  a 


1 8  NEGRO   TALES 

fair  exchange.  Speak  the  word;  the  magistrate 
is  waiting  for  his  fee.  You  won't?  Your  beard 
is  a  foot  long." 

"I  go  to  dig  your  mother's  grave." 

"I  detain  you  to  pleasure  my  mother's  son." 

"She  must  be  buried." 

"I  must  be  married." 

"Oh!     Oh!     Oh!" 

"Speak  the  word." 

"My  beard  is  being  wasted." 

"Speak  the  word,  or  I'll  pull  out  another 
handful." 

"Y-e-e-s,"  stammered  Noah. 

Caleb  stroked  what  beard  was  left,  evened  it  up 
with  his  penknife,  and  said:  "Go!  You  are 
adorned  for  your  task." 

What  Noah  felt  and  thought  while  digging 
Patsy's  grave  would  make  a  serious,  instructive 
volume.  A  like  record  of  Caleb  and  Melviny,  as 
they  stood  before  the  magistrate,  would  show  the 
brute  in  man,  the  folly  in  woman.  So  long  as 
woman  is  sure  she  has  mastered  man,  so  long  is 
man  sure  to  degrade  woman.  'Tis  the  equation 
of  the  fall.  The  rib  that  gave  woman  life  ever 
waits  to  give  her  temptation  and  death. 

Caleb  had  been  away  from  Melviny  six  months 
when  their  child  was  born. 

Fancy  a  man,  dirty,  ragged,  and  lousy,  sitting 


CALEB  19 

beside  a  post.  Notice  the  convenience  of  the  post. 
Look  well  at  the  grin  that  is  indicative  of  a  bite; 
forget  not  the  smile  that  means  one  intruder  less. 
Why  those  dice?  He  shakes  them  in  his  hand, 
throws  them  out,  and  says  seven.  Any  money  at 
stake?  No!  Any  fellow-players?  No!  See 
the  point?  ^Look  closely!  When  he  grins  he 
shakes  the  dice.  Know  you  what  that  means? 
There  is  a  bite.  When  he  smiles  he  throws  out 
the  dice  and  says  seven.  Understand  that?  The 
post  and  a  movement  of  his  back  have  done  the 
work,  and  there  is  one  intruder  less.  He  is  actu 
ally  gambling  with  the  lice  on  his  back. 

A  fellow-gambler  comes  up  and  says :  "Caleb, 
you  have  an  heir  in  your  family.  Happy  dog  you 
should  be." 

"Let's  celebrate  it  with  a  game,"  says  Caleb. 

He  throws  down  a  ten-dollar  bill;  the  other 
lays  down  five  silver  dollars. 

Caleb  shakes  the  dice,  grins  fiercely,  throws 
them  out,  smiles  a  double  smile,  and  says  seven 
twice.  This  means  a  double  victory.  More  lice 
have  been  killed,  and  five  dollars  are  won. 

"Five  more!    Will  you  have  it?"  asks  Caleb. 

"I'm  a  gambling  man  and  never  flinch,"  says 
the  other.  He  lays  down  five  more  silver  dol 
lars.  Caleb  rises  and  uses  the  post  vigorously. 
His  face  is  a  solid  grin.  The  dice  are  shaken  and 
leap  from  his  hand.  The  broad  grin  relaxes  into 


20  NEGRO   TALES 

a  little  smile  that  spreads  so  as  to  almost  hide  his 
nose.  His  left  hand  assists  the  post,  while  with 
the  right  he  picks  up  the  silver  dollars. 

"A  gambling  man  are  you?"  twits  Caleb. 

"Yes,"  nods  the  other. 

"Then  a  generous  man  am  I,"  continues  Caleb. 
"Take  the  ten-dollar  bill  and  remember  you  have 
met  Caleb." 

"Caleb,"  replies  the  other,  "I  am  a  more  gen 
erous  man  than  you.  Take  back  the  counterfeit 
bill  and  keep  the  silver  dollars  you  have  stolen. 
I  will  assist  you  further  by  inventing  a  new  way 
of  killing  lice." 

"Lice,  sir?"  roared  Caleb.  "Where  are  they? 
Do  you  mean ?" 

"I  mean  a  post  is  a  good  louse-killer,  but  a 
little  oil  and  a  match  are  better." 

Caleb,  as  you  know  by  this  time,  was  a  coward. 
He  outran  fire-and-oil  justice,  and  was  caught  in 
the  mesh  of  circumstances.  He  leaped  over  a  bee 
hive  and  alighted  between  two  lines  of  barbed- 
wire  fence.  After  spending  the  night  with  barbed- 
wire  and  bees  he  was  very  properly  removed  to 
the  hospital. 

"His  legs  must  be  amputated,"  said  the  phy 
sicians. 

"That  means  what?"  asked  Caleb,  arousing 
himself  as  from  a  dream. 

"Death,  perchance,"  said  they. 


CALEB  21 

"That  means  the  morgue?"  asked  he,  with  a 
grunt. 

"For  such  as  you,  yes,"  replied  one. 

"My  legs,  gentlemen,  my  legs!  The  morgue! 
The  morgue !  I  see  it.  How  cold  it  is  !  Gentle 
men,  are  you  gentlemen?  My  legs!  My  legs!" 

The  next  day  he  learned  that  his  legs  had  been 
taken  off.  The  following  day  he  roared  about 
the  morgue  and  fought  with  both  hands.  He 
cried  out  at  intervals: 

"Off!  Off,  you  doctors!  My  legs  are  here  to 
carry  me  from  the  morgue,  but  you  are  waiting 
to  cut  them  off  again.  Off,  you  butchers !  Come, 
my  right  leg!  Come,  my  left!  On,  my  right 
leg!  On  my  left!  Yes!  Yes!  Welcome,  tried 
friends!  Down  the  steps  now!  Halfway  down 
are  we !  Back !  Back,  you  butchers !  You  shall 
not !  My  right  foot — you  shall  not  turn  around. 
JTis  done.  The  toes  are  where  the  heel  should 
be.  I  go  a  step  forward  and  fall  back  a  step. 
Your  knives  are  sharp,  you  butchers.  My  right 
leg  is  off  and  hops  upstairs.  My  left  leg  is  off  and 
hops  downstairs.  My  body  falls  and  is  carried  to 
the  morgue.  The  morgue,  gentlemen,  is  so  cold 
—so  cold!" 

After  this  there  were  several  hours  of  indis 
tinct  raving.  The  next  day  his  legless  body  was 
upon  a  marble  slab  in  the  morgue. 

His    fellow-gamblers,    hearing    of    his    fate, 


22  NEGRO   TALES 

begged  his  body  that  they  might  give  it  a  "decent" 
burial.  They  removed  it  to  an  old  out-house 
and  sat  up  with  it  the  first  night.  Why  do  they 
gaze  upon  it  so  often?  Why  do  their  hands  touch 
his  face  and  hands?  Would  they  learn  a  lesson 
from  the  cold,  deathly  touch?  The  next  night, 
the  next,  the  next,  and  the  next  it  is  alone. 

You  searchers  of  the  city's  offal,  you  living 
buzzards  who  remove  the  dead  and  rotten  of 
your  kind,  fling  open  the  doors!  Is  that  Caleb 
you  find?  'Tis  a  part  of  him.  His  legs  are 
buried  somewhere.  His  ears  and  fingers  are  in 
the  pockets  of  his  fellow-gamblers.  Now  carry 
out  Caleb  minus  Caleb.  Stop  up  your  nose — 
stop  up  your  nose ! 


RODNEY 

Rodney  was  an  illegitimate  child.  He  knew 
not  what  this  meant,  but  the  sting  of  it  embit 
tered  his  young  life. 

The  Negro  has  as  much  prejudice  as  the  white 
man.  Under  like  conditions  the  negro  would 
make  the  same  laws  against  the  white.  This 
crept  out  in  the  treatment  of  Rodney.  His  worst 
enemies  were  always  negroes.  The  Anglo-Saxon 
blood  in  his  veins  made  scoffers  of  some  and 
demons  of  others. 

To  be  pitied  is  the  boy  who  has  never  framed 
the  word  "father"  upon  his  lips.  Rodney  at 
tempted  it  once,  but  failed,  and  never  tried  it 
again.  He  stood  before  his  father  bareheaded 
and  with  the  coveted  word  upon  his  lips. 

"You  have  a  fine  head  of  hair,"  said  his  father. 

"That's  what  people  say,"  replied  Rodney. 

"Are  you  proud  of  it?" 

"Should  I  not  be,  sir?" 

"Well,  my  little  man,  it's  a  disgrace  to  you." 

This  was  the  first  and  last  meeting  of  Rodney 
and  his  father. 

23 


24  NEGRO    TALES 

Once  two  fine  ladies  of  ebony  hue  visited  his 
mother,  to  show  their  silk  dresses  and  to  take 
dinner.  A  large  dish  of  parched  horse-corn  was 
placed  in  the  center  of  the  table.  His  mother 
said  a  solemn  blessing,  and  the  ladies  looked 
vexed. 

"My  dear  people,"  she  said,  after  looking  them 
into  a  smile,  "if  you  are  good,  this  is  good  enough. 
If  you  are  not  good,  it  is  too  good.  In  either 
case,  help  yourselves." 

Rodney  learned  from  this  and  similar  inci 
dents  to  make  the  most  of  a  bad  case. 

"A  little  corn,  if  you  please,"  said  one.  She 
was  helped  plentifully  by  Rodney's  mother. 

"Give  me  a  part  of  yours,"  said  the  second  to 
the  first.  She  received  about  four-fifths  of  it. 

"You  are  too  generous,"  said  Rodney's  mother, 
and  refilled  the  plate. 

Rodney  sat  on  the  floor,  stroked  his  cat,  and 
eyed  the  fine  dresses.  The  ladies  munched  with 
dignity,  or  fingered  the  laces  on  their  sleeves. 

"I  see  Rodney  has  had  the  smallpox,"  said  one. 

"Yes,"  replied  his  mother. 

"My  boy  had  it,  too." 

"How  did  it  serve  him?" 

"It  killed  him.  All  the  good  children  die.  It 
was  a  sad  stroke  to  me.  Well,  since  his  death  I 
have  been  able  to  dress  like  a  lady." 

"Like  a  lady!"  said  the  other.     "How  my  old 


RODNEY  25 

mistress  used  to  say  that  word.  I  caught  the  in 
spiration  then.  It  lingered  in  my  bones  a  long 
time  before  it  crept  out  thus." 

Here  she  surveyed  her  clothing  with  satisfac 
tion. 

"I  see  that  parched  horse-corn  and  fine  dresses 
go  well  together,"  said  Rodney's  mother,  as  she 
helped  their  empty  plates. 

"You  see  we  are  considerate/'  said  one. 

"Yes,  and  ladylike,"  said  the  second. 

uYes,  and  patched  with  the  blue  and  the  gray," 
said  Rodney's  mother. 

They  looked  at  their  clothes,  but  saw  not  the 
point. 

"Mother,"  said  Rodney,  lying  flat  on  his  back, 
hugging  the  cat,  and  beating  his  heels  upon  the 
floor,  "what  is  fine  lace  worth  a  yard?" 

"What  is  it  worth,  ladies?"  said  she. 

They  looked  at  each  other  and  frowned. 

"Rodney  has  begun,  ladies.  Be  prepared,"  said 
his  mother. 

Here  she  emptied  the  last  of  the  corn  into  her 
visitors'  plates. 

"When  I  washed  for  Mrs.  Rodman  a  few 
months  ago  she  had  beautiful  lace  on  her  pillow 
slips." 

"Yes,  she  did,  mother,"  said  Rodney.  Then, 
turning  to  the  two  women :  "You  ladies  work  for 
her  now.  You  cook,  and  you  wash.  She  and  her 


26  NEGRO   TALES 

daughter,  General  Bradford's  wife,  have  gone 
to  the  springs.  Did  it  take  all  the  pillow-slip  lace 
for  your  sleeves?" 

"Don't  be  too  plain,  Rodney,"  said  his  mother. 
•  "Mother,  that's  the  dress  General  Bradford 
gave  his  wife.  You  know  she  told  you  about  it. 
Mother,  mother,  what  did  you  mean  when  you 
said  that  the  ladies  are  patched  with  the  blue  and 
the  gray?" 

"Mrs.  Rodman  is  of  the  North.  General 
Bradford  is  of  the  South.  One  means  the  blue, 
the  other  the  gray." 

"If  we  are  wearing  things  that  belong  to  the 
blue  and  the  gray,  we  are  not  patched,"  said  one, 
as  she  arose  from  the  table  and  put  on  her  hat. 

"No,"  said  the  other,  "we  are  ladies  when  we 
are  dressed  so." 

"That  hat!"  said  Rodney. 

The  other  one  put  her  hat  behind  her. 

"That  one,  too!"  roared  Rodney. 

"Look  after  your  half-white  brat,"  said  they. 

"Look  after  your  bare  heads  when  Mrs.  Rod 
man  and  her  daughter  return,"  said  Rodney's 
mother. 

"Now,"  said  one,  "I  believe  what  the  fortune 
teller  said." 

"Tell  it,"  said  the  other. 

"I  lost  some  money." 

"Yes,  you  did,"  said  the  other. 


RODNEY  27 

"I  went  to  the  fortune-teller." 

"I  went  with  you." 

"She  pointed  out  a  half-white  brat." 

"She  then  pointed  out  his  mother." 

"She  said  we  would  all  meet  some  day." 

"Now  we  have  met." 

"What  did  she  say  about  parched  corn?"  asked 
Rodney's  mother. 

"She  said  a  half-white  brat  stole  the  money." 

"She  said  he  would  die,  too,"  joined  in  the 
other. 

"That's  all  plain  enough,"  said  Rodney's 
mother. 

"Your  boy  is  dead,  and  you  know  about  his 
father." 

"Now,"  said  the  one  with  the  hat  behind  her, 
"I  don't  blame  Uncle  Jack  for  choking  your  brat." 

"Nor  Aunt  Sally  for  throwing  hot  soup  on 
him,"  said  the  other. 

"Uncle  Jack  and  Aunt  Sally,"  said  Rodney's 
mother,  "will  be  important  witnesses  when  Mrs. 
Rodman  and  her  daughter  return.  They  know 
all,  and  will  tell  more." 

One  of  the  ladies  picked  up  a  glass. 

"How's  your  cat,  my  son?" 

"My  cat's  nice  and  good  and  sweet." 

Here  both  ladies  spat  into  the  glass. 

"Cats  are  respectable  and  worth  talking  about, 
my  son." 


28  NEGRO   TALES 

"This  we  leave  with  you,"  said  the  one  with 
the  hat  behind  her,  as  she  set  the  glass  upon  the 
table. 

"What  do  you  take  with  you?"  asked  Rodney's 
mother. 

Both  looked  around  a  second.  "Corn  in  our 
stomachs,"  said  they. 

"Are  the  ladies  insulted,  mother?" 

"They  are  dull  and  nasty,  my  boy." 

The  ladies  hurried  out,  one  knocking  over  a 
chair,  the  other  deliberately  pulling  down  a  pic 
ture. 

"Here,  mother,"  said  Rodney,  bringing  her  a 
comb  and  brush,  "tidy  up  my  cat.  Mary's  com 
ing  with  her  doll."  The  mother  combed  and 
brushed  the  cat,  while  Rodney  jumped  on  and  off 
the  table  for  joy.  In  the  meantime  Professor 
Brandon  was  conversing  with  the  ladies  on  the 
outside. 

"Ladies!  ladies!"  said  he. 

"Ha !  ha !"  was  the  response. 

"Let  it  flow  right  along,"  continued  the  pro 
fessor. 

"We'll  be  generous  enough,"  said  they. 

"Ladies,  those  poses  are  superb." 

"Professor,  you  can  judge." 

"No  one  doubts  it,  ladies." 

"Professor,  I  need  words  just  now,"  said  one 
of  them. 


RODNEY  29 

"Professor,  I  need  a  professor,"  said  the  other. 

"That's  epidemic,  ladies." 

Little  Mary  entered  the  room  and  ran  around 
holding  her  doll  by  one  foot.  "Oh!  oh!  oh!" 
said  she. 

"Is  your  doll  hurt?"  asked  Rodney,  following 
her  around  the  room  with  his  cat  in  his  arms. 

"No,  no,  no,"  replied  she. 

"A  cat  for  a  doll,"  said  Rodney. 

"I  must  tell  it  first,"  gasped  Mary. 

"Go  on,  while  I  fan  you  with  my  cat,  Mary!" 

"The  professor  and  the  ladies — are  drinking — 
from — a  big  black  bottle." 

"Let's  see,"  said  Rodney,  as  he  ran  to  the  door 
and  peeped.  Mary  followed  and  stood  behind 
him. 

"Ha!  ha!  let  it  flow  right  along,"  came  from 
without. 

Rodney  held  up  his  cat  for  a  bottle  and  made 
a  gurgling  sound.  Mary  held  up  her  doll  and 
imitated  him. 

The  professor  now  parted  from  the  ladies  and 
approached  Rodney's  home.  As  he  walked  into 
the  room  Rodney  and  Mary  sat  upon  the  floor 
and  exchanged  the  cat  and  doll. 

"I  am  Professor  Brandon,"  said  he,  pulling  his 
mustache. 

Rodney  went  through  the  motion  of  pulling  his, 
and  Mary  pulled  the  cat's. 


30  NEGRO   TALES 

"  'Tis  delightful  to  meet  ladies,'1  said  he. 

Rodney's  mother  nodded. 

"Schoolteaching  would  be  unbearable  were  it 
not  for  meeting  ladies." 

"Must  you  have  the  big  black  bottle  every 
time?"  asked  Mary. 

Here  Rodney  held  up  the  doll  and  made  a 
drinking  noise. 

"These  young  ones  need  curbing,"  said  the  pro 
fessor. 

"So  do  appetites,  sir,"  replied  Rodney's  mother. 

"I  am  a  schoolteacher,  madam,"  roared  he. 

"I  am  a  washerwoman,  sir,"  was  her  reply. 

"Very  well,  I'll  give  you  a  job.  What  can  you 
wash?" 

"Shirts." 

"What  else?" 

"Drawers." 

"What  else?" 

"Socks." 

"What  else?" 

"Diapers,  sir." 

"You  are  brutally  plain,  madam." 

"You  are  devilishly  inconsiderate  and  inquisi 
tive,  sir." 

Both  children  emphasized  the  remark  by  beat 
ing  upon  the  floor. 

"To  my  business,"  said  the  professor.  "This 
boy  should  be  at  school.  Where  is  his  father?" 


RODNEY  31 

"I  ask  you  the  same  question,  sir." 

"Madam,  that  leads  me  to  suspect." 

"What  does  'suspect'  mean,  professor?"  asked 
Mary. 

"It  means — the  Latin  of  it  is — let's  see " 

The  professor  stopped  to  pull  his  mustache. 

"It  means  to  dream  out  something  and  swear 
it's  true,"  spoke  up  Rodney's  mother. 

"Madam,  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about  this  boy's 
schooling.  Have  you  any  drinking  water?" 

"No.      Rodney,  a  bucket  of  water." 

"A  bucket  of  water,  Rodney.  Go  fast  and  re 
turn  slowly,"  put  in  the  professor. 

Rodney  started  briskly,  but  Mary  held  him 
back  and  looked  saucily  at  the  professor. 

"Let's  bring  back  the  bottle,"  laughed  she,  as 
both  ran  out. 

"First,  madam,  I  am  a  professor.  I  hold  a 
diploma  from  a  college." 

"You  carry  it  with  you?" 

"Sometimes." 

"You  have  shown  it  to  leading  white  men?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  many  a  good-meaning  white  man  has 
been  deceived  by  a  college  diploma  in  the  hands 
of  a  negro." 

"You  presume  too  far  on  your  limited  knowl 
edge." 

"You  travel  too  far  on  your  flimsy  diploma." 


32  NEGRO   TALES 

"Secondly,  madam,  I  would  elevate  the  morals 
of  the  race." 

"Very  good,  sir.    How?" 

"I  would  begin  by  cutting  off  from  society 
every  illegitimate  negro  child." 

"You  would,  in  so  doing,  train  your  thumb  and 
finger  to  pinch  your  own  nose." 

"My  mother  and  father  were  married, 
madam." 

"Your  mother  and  her  husband  were  married." 

"Madam,  I  came  in  the  interest  of  your  child's 
education." 

"You  are  a  liar  from  the  roots  of  your  hair 
to  your  toe-nails.  You  came  to  pry  into  my 
private  life  and  to  take  note  of  my  mental  stock. 
You  may  proceed,  sir." 

"I  haven't  time  to  stay." 

"You  have  a  sufficient  supply  with  which  to  go." 

"If  you  were  a  lady,  I  would  say  prate  on." 

"If  you  were  a  merchant,  I  would  say  speak 
tersely,  weigh  justly,  and  keep  ever  in  mind  a 
marble  monument. 

"If  you  were  a  poet  I  would  say  tear  out  and 
fling  to  the  crowd  as  much  of  your  heart  as  you 
would  have  the  crowd  return.  If  you  were  a 
philosopher  I  would  say  weaken  not  your  philoso 
phy  with  wit,  nor  weigh  down  your  wit  with 
philosophy.  Philosophy  and  wit  are  good  neigh 
bors,  but  indifferent  twins.  Since  you  are  a  fool, 


RODNEY  33 

I  will  simply  say  all  remedies  have  failed,  and 
you  are  happy  and  safe  in  your  ancient  calling." 

Professor  Brandon  pulled  his  mustache  a  few 
seconds.  He  then  said:  uFor  your  peace  of 
mind,  I  will  go." 

Rodney  entered  with  a  pitcher  of  water,  and 
Mary  with  a  big  black  bottle. 

"Have  water,  professor?"  asked  Rodney. 
Here  Mary  pretended  to  drink  from  the  bottle. 
The  professor  took  the  pitcher  and  poured  some 
of  the  water  into  the  glass  into  which  the  ladies 
had  spat  some  time  before.  He  held  it  at  some 
distance  from  him  and  said:  "Woman's  tedious, 
but  pure  water  is  wholesome." 

"Professor!"  roared  Rodney's  mother. 

"You  are  just  and  polite,  at  last,"  calmly  ob 
served  he. 

"What's  in  the  glass,  sir?    Examine  the  glass." 

"That  is  best  done  in  the  dish-water." 

The  professor  was  about  to  drink  it  when  he 
saw  the  spittle. 

"You  did  this,  boy?" 

"I  was  holding  Mary's  doll,  professor,"  gasped 
Rodney. 

"Was  it  you,  girl?" 

"I  was  holding  Rodney's  cat  and  your  big  black 
bottle,  professor,"  slyly  replied  Mary. 

"You,  madam?" 

"Be  calm,  professor.    That  is  the  compliments 


34  NEGRO   TALES 

of  your  fine  ladies,  without  whom  schoolteaching 
would  be  unbearable." 

"They  spat  into  this  glass?" 

"No,  professor,"  retorted  Mary.  "Rodney 
said  they  puked  into  it." 

"They  had  a  mighty  big  stomach  full  of  corn, 
anyway,"  put  in  Rodney. 

The  professor  dropped  the  glass  and  stepped 
out  of  the  door,  seemingly  very  uneasy  about  the 
stomach. 

"Professor,"  called  Rodney's  mother. 

He  stopped  and  grunted. 

"Your  attitude  is  undignified,  sir." 

He  started  to  answer,  but  his  mouth  was  too 
full.  Rodney's  mother  walked  to  the  door  back 
wards  and  closed  it. 

"You  did  that,  Mary,"  said  Rodney. 

"How?"  retorted  Mary. 

"I  didn't  say  they  puked  into  the  glass.  I  said 
they  spat  into  it." 

"It's  all  one,  Master  Rodney,  and  give  me  my 
doll." 

"I  won't.    Give  me  my  cat." 

"I  won't.     My  doll."  ' 

"My  cat." 

They  tugged  at  the  doll  and  cat.  Rodney's 
mother  threw  her  arms  around  them,  and  said 
soothingly:  "My  Rodney  and  his  little  sweet 
heart,  Mary!" 


TESNEY,  THE  DECEIVED 

Tesney,  the  frail,  the  good,  the  beautiful  mu 
latto,  was  known  of  child,  man,  woman,  and 
beast. 

"Wait,  Tesney!  We  have  something  good  for 
you  and  a  secret  to  tell."  Daily  such  invitations 
came  from  the  white  children  of  the  neighbor 
hood.  Daily  Tesney  ate  "good  things"  and  lis 
tened  to  talks  about  dolls,  playmates,  stories,  and 
so  on.  The  dogs  that  accompanied  the  children 
pulled  Tesney' s  apron  strings  and  seemed  to  en 
joy  her  good  nature  and  the  confidence  of  her 
little  white  friends. 

"What  a  servant  she  is!"  said  white  family 
men,  as  they  passed.  "She  fondles  the  babies, 
and  they  do  not  cry.  She  talks,  and  older  chil 
dren  listen.  She  moves,  and  they  follow  her.  She 
does  not  command,  but  they  do  her  bidding. 
There  should  be  a  million  such  as  she." 

"She  is  a  lady  born,"  said  white  women.  "May 
no  ill  befall  her." 

Tesney  was  servant  to  Mrs.  Wakely,  a  wealthy 
Southern  white  woman.  Tesney's  presence  was 

35 


36  NEGRO   TALES 

energy  to  the  other  young  negro  servants.  They 
thought  of  her,  and  put  thought  into  their  work. 
They  looked  at  her  and  dignified  their  persons. 
"There  may  be  queens  of  the  kitchen  as  well  as 
queens  of  the  parlor,"  said  they.  "We  belong 
to  the  first.  Let  us  glory  in  the  honor." 

The  lace  curtains  at  the  windows,  the  pictures 
on  the  wall,  the  lint  on  the  carpet,  the  china  in 
the  closet,  the  wearing  apparel  of  Mrs.  Wakely, 
and  the  food  on  the  table,  all  knew  the  touch  of 
Tesney's  delicate  yellow  hand.  The  washer 
woman  followed  her  instructions,  and  the  clothes 
lasted  months  longer. 

The  other  servants  learned  through  her  that 
honesty  in  a  servant  is  a  greater  virtue  than  dig 
nity  in  a  parlor  queen,  and  the  grocery  bill  was 
reduced  ten  per  cent.  She  studied  the  needs  of 
the  family,  and  expenses  were  reduced  ten  per 
cent.  more.  Her  forethought  for  the  family  and 
her  genius  in  arranging  games  and  work  for  the 
children  gave  Mrs.  Wakely  many  hours  of  leisure 
and  comfort. 

"The  house  can  do  without  me  for  hours,"  said 
Mrs.  Wakely  to  her  guests,  "but  it  cannot  do 
without  Tesney  for  a  minute." 

Tesney's  mother  was  a  mulatto,  with  the  hair 
and  features  of  that  type.  She  died  when  Tesney 
was  too  young  to  know  anything  about  her.  Tes 
ney  never  knew  her  father,  but  she  had  a  suspi- 


TESNEY,    THE    DECEIVED         37 

cion.  Her  suspicion  was  wrong,  and  it  caused 
all  her  trouble.  She  heard  Agnes,  who  knew  her 
mother,  talk,  and  it  was  upon  Agnes'  talk  that 
Tesney  had  founded  her  suspicion. 

"He  is  my  father,"  she  often  said  to  herself, 
as  a  certain  rich  man  of  another  race  passed  by. 
"He  will  give  me  something  some  day." 

On  her  twenty-third  birthday  she  saw  Mrs. 
Wakely  in  company  with  this  man.  After  leaving 
the  man,  Mrs.  Wakely  said:  "Tesney,  here  is  a 
ring  your  father  sent  to  you.  Look  on  the  inside 
of  it." 

Tesney  looked,  and  read:  "To  my  daughter, 
Tesney." 

"The  man,  Mrs.  Wakely?"  asked  Tesney. 

"Your  father." 

"His  name,  please?" 

"Do  you  not  know?  Has  not  Agnes  told  you 
all  about  it?  She  said  she  would." 

Tesney  wore  the  ring,  and  renewed  her  hopes 
of  getting  something  from  the  man  whom  she 
considered  her  father. 

That  very  afternoon  a  pony,  hitched  to  a  dog 
cart  and  driven  by  Tesney,  became  frightened  and 
ran.  To  keep  the  two  children  behind  her  from 
jumping  from  the  cart  and  receiving  unnecessary 
bruises  Tesney  held  them  with  one  hand  and 
gripped  the  lines  with  the  other.  However,  the 
animal's  wild  flight  was  of  short  duration,  for 


38  NEGRO   TALES 

the  man  of  Tesney's  suspicion  stopped  the  pony 
and  led  the  now  docile  beast  back  to  Mrs.  Wake- 
ly's  gate.  As  Tesney  lifted  the  crying  children 
from  the  cart  he  said: 

"Tesney,  you  are  a  good,  brave  girl.  I  was 
talking  to  Mrs.  Wakely  this  morning  about  you. 
I  gave  her  a  ring  for  you.  How  do  you  like  the 
present?" 

"Well,  sir,  well,"  answered  Tesney. 

There  were  tears  in  her  eyes,  but  the  man  did 
not  see  them. 

"Tesney,"  continued  the  man,  "how  would  you 
like  to  live  with  me?" 

"Well,  sir,  well,"  answered  Tesney. 

Mrs.  Wakely  now  hurried  from  the  house, 
having  witnessed  the  misadventure  of  the  pony- 
cart. 

"Oh,  thank  you,  Mr.  Bankner,  thank  you!" 
she  cried.  "The  children  are  all  right,  are  they 
not?  Tesney  is  a  good,  brave  girl,  isn't  she?" 

"She  is  that,  and  more,"  replied  the  man,  as 
he  bowed  and  departed. 

Tesney  wore  the  ring,  remembered  the  invita 
tion,  and  renewed  her  hopes. 

Three  months  from  that  day  Tesney  stood  be 
hind  Aunt  Agnes  combing  her  hair  while  Agnes 
examined  the  ring.  Agnes  was  about  sixty  years 
old,  an  ex-slave,  a  meddler,  and  liar.  Her  three 
hundred  and  fifty  pounds  kept  her  in  her  big 


TESNEY,    THE    DECEIVED         39 

arm-chair.  There  she  made  the  coffee,  beat  the 
biscuits,  abused  the  cook,  lied  to  Mrs.  Wakely, 
said  the  blessing,  and  urged  all  to  live  good  Chris 
tian  lives.  She  had  nursed  Tesney  and  knew  her 
ancestry. 

She  called  Tesney  her  daughter,  and  wished 
her  for  a  daughter-in-law.  Tesney  was  fond  of 
Agnes,  but  scorned  her  son,  who  was  unfit  for  any 
woman. 

"Read,  Aunt  Agnes,"  said  Tesney,  "while  I 
comb." 

"No;  you  jes'  stop  combin'  an'  read." 

Tesney  read  the  inscription,  and  dropped  a 
Rvord  about  her  suspicion. 

"Now,  comb  on,  chile.  Me!  My!  Whew! 
Stop,  chile,  stop !  Dat  comb's  mighty  fine.  Whut 
dat  you  say  'bout  dem  ring-wuds  an'  dat  big 
white  man?" 

Tesney  repeated  the  inscription  and  empha 
sized  her  suspicion. 

"Is  dat  so?"  asked  Agnes  doubtfully. 

"Didn't  you  as  good  as  say  so,  Aunt  Agnes?" 

"Maybe  I  did,  chile.  Now,  look  heah,  chile,  is 
you  gwine  ter  be  my  daughter-in-law?" 

"Aunt  Agnes,  it  cannot  be.  You  know  your 
son  is  a  bad  man." 

"Yes,  chile;  but  er  bad  man  needs  er  good 
wife." 

"Thanks,  Aunt  Agnes;  but  it  cannot  be." 


40  NEGRO   TALES 

"George,  you  triflin'  rascal,  come  heah,"  Agnes 
called  to  her  son. 

George  entered  and  smiled  at  Tesney,  who 
frowned  and  turned  her  back  upon  him. 

"Son,"  continued  Agnes,  "daughter  says  no. 
It's  good  'nough.  Go,  you  triflin'  rascal,  go." 

George  went. 

"Chile,"  said  Agnes,  with  a  great  show  of 
kindness,  "you  is  right.  You  knows  dat  you  is 
good-blooded  stock.  Fine  stylish  white  blood 
runs  in  yo'  veins.  You  is  right,  chile.  Look  up ! 
Look  up !  You  knows  whut  de  yeast  does  fur  de 
bread.  White  dignity  does  dat  fur  yo'  blood. 
You  knows  whut  de  skerecrow  does  fur  de  corn 
field.  White  wisdom  does  dat  fur  yo'  woman 
hood.  Whut  de  steam  does  fur  de  steam-cyar 
white  go-er-head  does  fur  you.  You  is  right, 
chile.  Look  up !  Now  you  mus'  be  feelin'  mighty 
good.  Ain't  you?  George  is  er  little  no-er-count, 
but  Agnes'll  wuk  fur  Tesney,  an'  George'll  wuk 
fur  Tesney,  an'  won't  dat  be  er  good  bargain? 
Honey  chile,  say  dat  it  will,  an'  please  de  heart 
ob  po'  ole  Agnes." 

"Aunt  Agnes,  it  cannot  be." 

"Does  you  mean  dat,  chile?" 

"I  mean  it,  Aunt  Agnes." 

"Does  you  mean  eb'ry  wud  ob  it?" 

"I  mean  every  word  of  it." 

"Now,  I'se  gwine  ter  make  you  er  speech,  you 


TESNEY,    THE    DECEIVED         41 

ha'f-white  nigger.  You  thinks  bekase  yo'  face 
ain't  whut  you  calls  raal  black,  an'  bekase  yo' 

haih  ain't  smack-dab  ter  yo'  haid,  an'  bekase 

Oh,  Tesney,  honey  chile,  don't  cry  dat  way.  Aunt 
Agnes  wus  jes'  er  foolin'.  I  takes  it  all  back. 
Let  me  kiss  you  all  ober  de  face.  Dere  now. 
I  knows  dat  you's  in  good  humor.  You  sees, 
chile,  how  Aunt  Agnes  kin  hurt  yo'  feelin's.  You 
better  be  George's  wife  den  hab  yo'  feelin's  hurt 
all  de  time." 

"It  cannot  be,  Aunt  Agnes.    Don't  ask  me  any 


more." 


"Now,  I'll  say  de  res'  ob  my  speech.  It'll  not 
be  er  speech  ob  wuds,  nuther.  It'll  be  one  ob 
acts.  It'll  hit  you  hard.  It'll  make  you  'shamed 
ob  yo-self.  It'll  dribe  yo'  friends  ter  turn  dey 
backs  erpon  you.  It'll  put  you  out  ob  doors. 
It'll  make  you  say:  Tse  er  fool — er  fool.'  It'll 
hit  you  hard — hard." 

Agnes  stopped  to  breathe.  Mrs.  Wakely  en 
tered  the  kitchen.  Tesney  was  looking  at  the 
ring. 

"Tesney,"  said  Agnes,  "yo'  mother  wus  er 
ooman  nearly  white,  an'  yo'  father  wus  er  nigger 


man." 


"My  father!"  gasped  Tesney.    "I  have  always 

learned  that  my  father  was " 

"Yo'  father  wus  whut  I  tells  you,  chile." 
"What  have  you  always  told  me?" 


42  NEGRO   TALES 

"Listen!  I  tells  you  de  facts.  I  tells  you  de 
facts." 

"Aunt  Agnes !"  screamed  Tesney. 

"Tesney,"  said  Mrs.  Wakely;  "that  informa 
tion  seems  to  trouble  you." 

"Ha!  ha!  De  chile!  Ha!  ha!"  Agnes 
stopped  to  hold  her  sides. 

"Why,  Agnes,  what  is  the  matter?"  asked  Mrs. 
Wakely. 

"Ha !  ha !  De  chile  thinks  de  man  whut  gibed 
you  dat  ring  fur  her  is  her  father." 

"Do  you,  Tesney?"  asked  Mrs.  Wakely 
sharply. 

Tesney  put  the  ring  on  her  finger  and  remained 
silent. 

"Speak,  Tesney!  The  matter  is  serious,"  de 
manded  Mrs.  Wakely. 

"I  do,"  answered  Tesney.  "Did  not  Mr. 
Bankner  give  you  the  ring  for  me  ?" 

"He  did." 

"Did  you  not  say  that  the  ring  was  sent  to  me 
by  my  father?" 

"Your  father  sent  it  to  you;  but  another 
brought  it  to  me." 

"Is  you  sma't  'nough  ter  see  de  differunce  be 
tween  de  sendin'  an1  de  bringin'  ob  er  thing, 
chile?" 

Tesney  looked  at  Mrs.  Wakely  and  nodded. 

"Have  you  not  deceived  yourself?" 


TESNEY,    THE    DECEIVED         43 

"I  have  in  part.    Aunt  Agnes,  here " 

"De  chile  lies!  De  chile  lies!  Mrs.  Wakely, 
de  chile !" 

"Be  quiet,  Agnes,"  demanded  Mrs.  Wakely. 
"You  are  too  fat  to  become  eloquent  with  ease  and 
safety." 

"She  better  be,"  said  the  washerwoman,  who 
happened  to  stop  at  the  window  a  few  seconds. 
"All  de  coffins  erbout  heah  is  fur  heabenly-sized 
people." 

Agnes,  in  a  rage  at  this  interruption,  turned 
and  threw  the  rolling-pin  at  the  washerwoman, 
but  she  was  at  a  safe  distance. 

"Tesney,  Agnes  said  that  she  would  explain  this 
whole  affair  to  you." 

"Missus  Wakely,  you  has  knowed  ole  Agnes 
er  long,  long  time,  an'  jes'  as  sho'  as  you  an'  me 
is  gwine  ter  de  same  heaben,  jes'  so  sho'  I  wus 
gwine  ter  tell  dis  chile  de  whole  truth,  but  she 
kep'  on  makin'  de  lookin'-glass  talk  erbout  her 
face  an'  her  haih  dat  I  jes'  thought  I'd  fling  out 
er  little  hint  an'  lay  low." 

"I  knew  your  father,  Tesney;  and,  as  Agnes 
says,  he  was  a  negro." 

"I  reckons  you'll  beliebe  now,"  shouted  Agnes. 
"De  white  folks  done  said  so." 

"Heah  is  yo'  rollin'-pin,"  said  the  washer 
woman,  as  she  paused  at  the  window  on  her  re 
turn. 


44  NEGRO   TALES 

"Hand  it  heah,"  demanded  Agnes. 

"I  will  when  you  is  ob  er  sweet  temper,"  an 
swered  the  washerwoman. 

"Please  to  explain  about  my  father  and  the 
ring.11 

"Your  father,  Tesney,"  Mrs.  Wakely  went  on, 
"was  reared  in  Mr.  Bankner's  family.  He  mar 
ried  a  woman  whom  none  of  us,  save  Agnes,  ever 
knew.  Shortly  after  the  death  of  your  mother, 
he  killed  a  man  in  self-defense.  Mr.  Bankner's 
people,  knowing  the  circumstances,  furnished  your 
father  money  with  which  to  escape.  Mr.  Bank- 
ner,  a  few  weeks  before  he  gave  me  the  ring,  saw 
your  father  and  told  him  of  you.  Your  father 
bought  the  ring,  had  the  inscription  put  in  it, 
and  intended  to  bring  it  to  you  himself.  How 
ever,  at  the  request  of  Mr.  Bankner  he  had  re 
turned  to  the  scene  of  the  killing  for  trial,  and 
was  mobbed.  Mr.  Bankner  secured  the  ring  be 
fore  his  death,  and  gave  it  to  me  for  you.  Now, 
as  we  are  to  leave  for  the  West  within  a  year, 
Mr.  Bankner  would  like  to  have  you  serve  in  his 
family.  He  holds  himself  somewhat  responsible 
for  your  father's  death,  and  would  like  to  help 
you.  I  would  have  told  you  this  before,  but  Ag 
nes  asked  me  to  leave  it  to  her." 

Mrs.  Wakely  now  left  the  room,  giving  Agnes 
a  stern  look  on  her  way  out. 

"Aunt  Agnes,"  sobbed  Tesney,  "I  have  been 


TESNEY,    THE    DECEIVED         45 

deceived  as  to  my  father,  and  maybe  as  to  my 
mother." 

"Has  you  bin  deceibed  in  me  too,  chile?" 

"Yes." 

"Den  ma'ry  George,  an'  be  deceibed  in  him." 

"It  cannot  be,  Aunt  Agnes." 

"Now  I'll  say  de  res'  ob  dat  speech  I  tol'  you 
erbout.  You  may  ma'ry  George  yit.  Mr.  Bank- 
ner  may  heah  from  dis.  He  shall  heah  from  it. 
Do  you  think  he'd  ever  let  you  stay  in  his  house 
den?" 

Tesney  left  the  room  in  silence. 

"George,  you  triflin'  rascal,  come  heah.  I  got 
things  started,  son.  Listen!  Watch  me!  You 
don't  desarbe  it,  but  watch  me.  Tell  Mr.  Bank- 
ner  dat  Tesney  says  dat  he  is  her  father.  Go! 
You  good  as  got  Tesney  now.  Go !"  As  George 
went  out  the  door,  Agnes  added:  "Dat's  er  tri 
flin'  rascal,  but  he's  my  George."  Agnes  began 
to  grind  the  coffee,  but  stopped  to  abuse  the  cook. 

George  contrived  to  have  the  message  of  Agnes 
reach  Mr.  Bankner's  ears.  Agnes,  in  turn,  told 
Tesney  that  the  rich  white  man  knew  of  her  suspi 
cion.  Tesney  looked  at  the  ring,  and  said:  "I 
am  Tesney  the  deceived." 

A  few  months  after  this  Mr.  Bankner  sent  his 
wife  and  children  to  Europe,  and  came  to  board 
with  Mrs.  Wakely.  Tesney,  knowing  that  George 
had  had  his  mother's  message  delivered,  feared 


46  NEGRO   TALES 

the  result.  She  worried  until  she  was  a  mere 
skeleton  of  her  former  self. 

"I  cannot  face  my  blunder,"  she  said.  "I  must 
leave." 

She  accordingly  rented  a  room  and  lived  alone. 
In  a  short  time  she  took  to  her  bed  as  the  result 
of  isolation  and  worry. 

When  Agnes  heard  of  Tesney's  illness  she  said: 
uDis  is  our  chance,  son." 

Her  three  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  were  soon 
at  Tesney's  bedside.  Tesney  was  flighty.  George 
and  the  preacher  came.  George  held  her  hand 
while  the  preacher  asked  questions.  George  an 
swered  for  himself,  and  Agnes  answered  for 
Tesney. 

A  week  passed.  Tesney  arose  from  her  pillow 
and  said  to  Agnes:  "Are  you  here?" 

"Yes,  chile,"  answered  Agnes;  "an'  George,  yo' 
husban',  is  heah,  too." 

"George,  my  husband!"  ejaculated  Tesney. 

"Yes,  child,"  said  the  preacher,  who  happened 
to  be  present,  "I  married  you  to  him  a  week  ago." 

Tesney  swooned,  and  fell  back  upon  her  pillow. 
When  next  conscious  of  her  surroundings,  Tesney 
found  herself  in  bed  in  a  log  cabin,  with  her  three- 
hundred-and-fifty-pound  tormentor  still  at  her 
side. 

From  that  time  until  her  death  she  was  a  pris 
oner.  Not  more  than  a  dozen  times  did  she  seem 


TESNEY,    THE    DECEIVED         47 

sane.  She  would  stand  before  the  glass  and  ask 
for  her  old  self.  Sometimes  she  called  Agnes  a 
girl.  Then  she  would  call  her  a  woman. 

"Agnes,"  said  she,  on  one  occasion,  "here  is  a 
rope.  Let  us  skip." 

When  Tesney's  baby  boy  was  between  three 
and  four  weeks  old  George  was  killed  in  a 
drunken  brawl.  Two  days  afterward  he  was 
buried,  a  short  distance  from  the  house.  Tesney 
was  in  bed.  Agnes  did  not  go  to  the  grave.  She 
dragged  her  three  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  out 
doors  to  cool,  cry,  and  repent. 

Tesney  took  a  looking-glass  from  under  her 
pillow  and  looked  at  herself. 

"Tesney  has  come  back  again,"  she  said.  "This 
is  her  face.  This  is  her  hair.  Tesney  has  come 
back  again."  Then  turning  to  the  wasting  child 
at  her  side,  she  said:  "Don't  cry,  little  rascal. 
You  are  a  George,  like  your  father.  Little  fool, 
don't  cry.  Night  will  soon  come.  You  may  go 
then.  Cry,  cry,  little  George !  Stop  !  Stop !" 

Tesney  fell  asleep.  After  several  hours  she 
was  awakened  by  the  crying  of  her  baby.  It  was 
night.  She  took  the  baby  in  her  arms  and  stole 
softly  out  of  the  house  in  her  bare  feet.  She 
went  straight  to  George's  grave  and  sat  down 
upon  it. 

"Little  rascal,"  said  she  to  the  baby,  "your 
father  is  in  the  ground  and  can't  steal  me  any 


48  NEGRO   TALES 

more.  Agnes  can't  follow  me.  You  must  not  be 
a  big  George.  How  you  are  growing!  Stop !  I'll 
hold  your  legs  and  arms.  Stop!  You  won't? 
You  must!" 

She  dug  a  hole  in  the  top  of  the  grave  with  her 
hands.  She  placed  the  baby  in  it,  and  covered  it 
as  well  as  she  could.  She  then  sat  on  a  stump 
nearby  and  said  not  a  word  for  several  minutes. 
Tesney,  sitting  there,  paid  no  heed  to  the  rising 
wind,  nor  the  distant  flash  of  the  lightning.  Pres 
ently  it  thundered.  She  arose,  put  her  hand  to 
her  ear,  like  one  at  a  telephone,  and  waited.  It 
thundered  again.  She  leaned  to  listen.  There 
was  more  lightning. 

"My  name?"  asked  she.  "It  is  Tesney." 
There  were  renewed  thunder  and  lightning.  "My 
baby?"  asked  she.  "I  sent  it  up.  Is  it  there?" 
Again  it  thundered,  again  the  lightning  flashed. 
"It  is  not  there?"  she  asked.  "I  must  come  with 
it?  All  right!  Welcome!"  She  ran  to  the  grave 
and  uncovered  the  baby.  It  kicked  feebly  and 
gave  a  faint  cry.  "I  knew  you  were  still  here," 
she  said.  "The  Voice  of  the  Clouds  said  so." 
A  terrible  storm  was  breaking.  "Listen,  little  ras 
cal:  We  go  together.  Listen!  The  Voice  is 
coming.  We  go!  We  go!" 

These  were  her  last  words.  She  embraced  the 
baby  and  sat  calmly  down  upon  the  grave  amid 
the  raging  elements.  The  storm's  fury  lasted  an 


TESNEY,    THE    DECEIVED         49 

hour  or  more.    The  next  morning  Tesney  and  the 
baby  were  lying  dead  on  George's  grave. 

Agnes  had  Tesney  and  the  baby  buried  in  the 
same  grave  with  George.  After  ten  years  of 
terrible  mental  and  bodily  suffering  Agnes  died. 
A  certain  part  of  each  day  during  this  time  she 
spent  looking  at  Tesney' s  ring  and  praying  aloud. 
Some  said  that  her  intense  agony  and  earnest 
prayer  thoroughly  purged  her  soul  of  guilt. 
Others  said  not  so.  God  knows. 


REGNAN'S  ANNIVERSARY 

"I'll  be  up  afore  day  to-morrow  morning, 
Regnan." 

"I'll  sleep  an  hour  longer,  Kitty." 

"That  may  bring  bad  luck,  Regnan.  Remem 
ber  Nordad,  the  tinker." 

"He  mended  a  pot  and  married  a  woman  the 
same  hour." 

"That  was  well  enough.  He  always  had  a  bit 
of  bacon  for  the  pot  and  a  faithful  wife." 

"What  of  his  bad  luck,  Kitty?" 

"He  fell  asleep  on  the  day  of  his  anniversary, 
was  kidnapped,  gagged  and  locked  up  in  his  gar 
ret.  On  payment  of  a  neat  little  sum  his  wife  was 
informed  where  he  was,  just  in  time  for  the  cere 
mony." 

"Anything  may  befall  me,  Kitty,  just  so  we 
stand  before  the  preacher  again  to-morrow  night." 

Thus  spoke  Regnan  and  Kitty,  his  wife,  the 
night  before  their  twenty-fifth  anniversary. 

Kitty  arose  early  the  next  morning,  fed  Posey, 
the  mare,  chatted  with  a  neighbor,  and  returned 
to  find  Regnan  still  snoring. 

5° 


REGNAN'S    ANNIVERSARY         51 

"Regnan,"  cried  she,  "will  you  remember  Nor- 
dad,  the  tinker  ?" 

"Kitty,"  rejoined  Regnan,  "will  you  always 
remember  to  bring  bad  news?" 

"Out  with  you,  Regnan." 

"Be  lovely  to-day,  Kitty." 

"The  bottom  of  your  foot  is  clean." 

"That  tickles !    That  tickles,  Kitty !" 

"Your  big  toe  is  a  good  door-knob." 

"Oh,  Kitty." 

"Out,  Regnan!" 

'Tis  better  to  stand  on  two  feet  than  to  lose 
one  big  toe.    I  love  you,  Kitty." 

"The  way  you  stand  such  treatment  shows  it. 
A  true  lover  is  the.  old  man  who  enjoys  the  whims 
of  an  old  wife." 

"You  are  a  young  wife  to-day." 

"A  good  breakfast,  a  hard  day's  work  and  the 
ceremony  to-night!  I'll  warrant  that  you'll  out 
shine  the  preacher,  Regnan." 

Regnan  and  Kitty  were  good,  religious  people. 
They  took  pride  in  the  fact  that  they  divided  their 
religious  duties.  He  prayed  night  and  morning. 
She  said  the  blessing  at  all  times.  She  gathered 
the  moral  and  religious  news  of  the  neighborhood, 
and  he  discussed  it  for  their  own  benefit.  At  these 
functions  Kitty  was  Kitty  and  Regnan  was  Reg- 
nan.  Joking  and  arguing  always  found  other 
means  of  outlet. 


52  NEGRO   TALES 

"Let  us  be  serious,  Kitty."  She  looked  at  him 
and  nodded  her  haid.  "Let  us  pray."  They  knelt 
and  prayed.  He  prayed  aloud,  and  she  silently. 
His  "amen"  seemed  to  be  a  link  connecting  the 
past  and  the  present.  So  much  for  a  beautiful 
human  picture. 

Regnan,  his  wife,  and  friends  were  negroes. 
He  dealt  in  rags,  old  iron,  and  second-hand  fur 
niture.  Kitty  was  a  plain  housewife. 

"I'll  have  a  breakfast  like  the  one  we  ate  twen 
ty-five  years  ago,  husband." 

"Do,  wife!  I'll  give  Posey  a  good  currying- 
ing." 

"Do,  husband!" 

Kitty  set  about  getting  breakfast,  and  Regnan 
curried  Posey.  Kitty  talked  to  the  pancakes,  and 
Regnan  talked  to  Posey. 

"I  would  not  burn  a  pancake  on  my  husband's 
wedding  day.  Now,  cakes,  turn  well!" 

"I  would  not  slight  you,  Posey,  on  my  wife's 
wedding  day.  Now,  Posey,  shining  Posey,  see 
yourself!" 

When  Regnan  and  Kitty  sat  down  to  breakfast, 
Posey,  hitched  to  the  wagon,  was  standing  with 
her  head  partly  in  the  window.  A  pancake  was 
passed  to  the  plates  of  Regnan  and  Kitty,  and 
one  to  the  mouth  of  Posey.  When  breakfast  was 
over  Regnan  kissed  Kitty,  patted  Posey,  and 
drove  off,  saying:  "Nordad  the  tinker  comes  ever 


REGNAN'S   ANNIVERSARY         53 

to  my  mind.  I  wonder  what  to-day  will  bring. 
I  will  prepare  for  to-night." 

Regnan  had  a  district  where  he  bought  and  sold. 
He  was  regular,  honest,  and  good-natured;  and 
therefore  popular.  His  "rag-cry"  was  his  own. 
It  always  brought  trade.  It  ran  something  like 
this:  "R-a-g-sy  rags,  rags,  r-a-g-s!  Any  r-a-g-s, 
o-l-d  iron?  Come  up,  Posey!  R-a-g-s,  old  iron!" 
This  cry  had  brought  a  little  fortune.  As  this  was 
his  anniversary  he  thought  he  would  not  buy  any 
rags,  but  deal  in  other  things. 

A  newly  married  man,  whose  wife  had  made 
kindling  wood  of  the  furniture,  sold  Regnan  a 
cooking  stove.  "Beware  of  the  first  wedding 
day,"  said  the  man.  Regnan  thought  him  un 
wise,  and  drove  on.  He  knew  of  another  newly 
married  couple  who  were  living  in  hopes  of  many 
anniversaries.  To  these  he  would  sell  the  stove. 
He  could  fancy  the  good  wife  cooking  pancakes 
for  her  husband.  Ere  he  could  reach  them  he 
exchanged  the  stove  for  a  sofa.  "All  good  wives 
need  rest,"  said  he.  "The  sofa  will  therefore 
serve  as  well  as  the  stove.  I  can  see  the  good 
man  and  his  wife  resting  upon  it  now." 

Later  in  the  afternoon  an  old  friend  stopped 
Regnan. 

"Now,  listen,"  said  he,  "to  an  anniversary 
march.  While  I  play  you  think  of  the  days 


54  NEGRO   TALES 

agone."  The  friend  played,  and  the  tears  stole 
down  Regnan's  cheeks. 

"How  much  for  the  fiddle?"  asked  Regnan. 
"Take  the  fiddle  for  the  sofa."  The  exchange 
was  made.  "The  newly  married  couple  are  loving 
and  patient.  They  can  wait,"  said  Regnan.  "I 
will  stop  here  and  get  my  beaver  hat,  white  vest, 
and  swallow^tailed  coat."  He  went  into  the  tail 
or's  shop  and  got  them.  He  had  had  them 
cleaned  for  the  anniversary. 

Regnan  was  now  very  tired.  He  had  been  in 
the  hot  sun  all  day.  He  had  had  nothing  to  eat 
since  morning.  Besides,  the  malaria  made  him 
drowsy. 

So  he  stopped  under  a  tree  to  rest.  The 
clothes  and  fiddle  were  tempting.  He  spread  the 
coat  upon  some  newspapers  in  the  wagon  and  put 
the  vest  in  the  proper  place.  He  then  placed  the 
beaver  at  the  head.  "Kitty,"  said  he,  as  though 
she  was  present,  "look  at  your  husband."  He  be 
came  more  and  more  drowsy.  He  played.  He 
nodded  and  closed  his  eyes.  He  stopped  playing 
with  his  fingers  on  the  bow  and  the  bow  on  the 
strings. 

Several  boys  were  watching  Regnan.  They 
thought  it  would  be  nice  to  put  the  vest,  coat, 
and  hat  on  the  biggest  boy  and  dance  around  him 
while  Regnan  "played  in  his  dreams."  It  was 
done.  The  boy  so  dressed  stood  in  a  clear  place 


REGNAN'S   ANNIVERSARY         55 

and  held  out  the  tails  of  the  coat.     The  others 
circled  around  him. 

In  every  neighborhood  there  are  at  least  two 
factions  among  the  boys.  Fight  is  born  in  a  boy. 
Letting  it  out  occasionally  will  help  to  tame  him. 
It  was  so  in  this  case.  It  happened  that  the  op 
posing  faction  had  business  that  way.  When  they 
saw  what  was  going  on,  they  cried:  "Fun,  boys, 
fun!"  A  dozen  pebbles  fell  among  the  dancers, 
who  fled  from  the  attack,  and  the  fun  began. 
The  beaver  hat  and  swallow-tailed  coat  were  kept 
in  the  lead.  The  opposing  faction  followed,  threw 
pebbles,  and  laughed. 

Regnan  awoke  and  began  to  play.  "There 
must  be  fun  in  it,"  said  he.  "That  reminds  me  of 
my  young  days."  He  looked  into  the  wagon. 
The  playing  was  cut  short.  He  looked  at  the  boys 
again.  The  beaver  hat  and  swallow-tailed  coat 
were  kept  in  the  lead.  He  called  a  spectator  and 
paid  him  to  take  Posey  and  the  wagon  home. 
With  fiddle  in  hand  and  thoughts  on  anniversary 
he  followed  the  boys.  The  opposing  faction 
stopped  and  scattered.  It  was  growing  dark. 
Regnan  caught  one  of  the  boys  and  began  to  scold 
him. 

"The  boy  with  the  beaver  hat  and  swallow- 
tailed  coat  is  the  one  you  want.  We  were  trying 
to  catch  him,"  gasped  the  boy. 

This  was  the  truth,  but  it  misled  Regnan.    The 


56  NEGRO    TALES 

boy  escaped.  Regnan  gained  on  the  others.  The 
boy  followed. 

"Mister,"  said  the  other  boys,  as  Regnan  over 
took  them,  "we  just  can't  catch  him.  There  he 
goes.  Mister  do  you  care  much  for  such  old 
things?" 

As  Regnan  pursued  his  moving  anniversary  suit 
the  boys  fell  in  behind  and  shouted:  "Run,  part 
ner,  run!  The  sum  that's  after  you  is  an  old 
head  plus  young  legs.  Run,  partner,  run!"  Here 
the  boys  left  their  partner  and  Regnan  to  finish 
the  race. 

"Stop,  thief!"  cried  Regnan.  The  boy  looked 
back,  and,  thinking  the  fiddle  a  club,  turned  and 
ran  into  a  pond.  They  were  now  on  the  edge  of 
the  town.  Regnan  called  to  the  boy  to  come  out, 
and  raised  the  fiddle  involuntarily. 

"If  you  throw,"  said  the  boy,  "I  will  dip  up 
water  in  your  hat." 

Regnan  called  again,  and  up  went  the  fiddle. 

"If  you  throw,"  cried  the  boy,  "I  will  lie  down 
in  the  water." 

It  was  growing  darker.  The  boy  was  going 
farther  into  the  pond. 

"It  is  the  fiddle  that  frightens  him,"  said  Reg 
nan  to  himself.  He  laid  it  beside  a  tree.  "See, 
my  boy,  see !  My  hands  are  empty.  I  will  come 
to  you."  He  plunged  into  the  pond  and  followed 
the  boy. 


REGNAN'S   ANNIVERSARY         57 

"I  will  wait  on  this  side.  The  club  is  over 
there,"  rejoined  the  boy,  going  all  the  while. 

In  trying  to  increase  his  pace,  and  watch  at 
the  same  time,  he  stumbled  and  fell  up  to  his  neck 
in  the  water.  The  beaver  upset  and  floated. 

Regnan  caught  it  and  pushed  on.  When  the 
boy  reached  the  bank  his  wits  came  to  him.  He 
pulled  off  the  coat  and  vest,  left  them  and  dis 
appeared  in  the  darkness.  Regnan  embraced  the 
hat,  vest,  and  coat  as  he  walked  around  the  pond 
to  get  his  fiddle.  He  was  wet  and  felt  a  chill 
coming  upon  him.  He  sat  down  beside  the  fiddle. 
For  an  hour  he  shivered  and  thought  of  his  wife, 
the  neighbors,  and  the  anniversary.  All  at  once 
he  thought  of  Nordad  the  tinker. 

Just  then  someone  rode  a  horse  up  to  the  pond 
a  short  distance  from  him  and  let  the  reins  fall 
for  it  to  drink. 

uAm  I  to  be  kidnapped  like  Nordad  the  tink 
er?"  whispered  Regnan  to  himself.  "I  will  crawl 
off."  In  dragging  the  fiddle  one  of  the  strings 
was  broken.  The  noise  frightened  the  horse.  It 
plunged  through  the  pond.  The  rider,  in  trying 
to  reach  the  reins,  fell  into  the  water,  but  quickly 
rose  to  his  feet  and  started  in  pursuit  of  the  flee 
ing  horse.  Soon  both  horse  and  rider  were  out 
of  sight  and  hearing. 

Regnan  breathed  freely  and  said:  "My  fiddle, 
it  may  be  you  have  saved  me  from  being  kid- 


58  NEGRO   TALES 

napped."  He  then  arose  and  started  homeward. 
An  hour  later  he  was  on  the  lawn  before  his  house. 
Posey,  arrived  home  some  time  since,  came  up  to 
him. 

"Posey,  my  girl,"  said  he,  "I  wonder  if  your 
mistress  is  as  patient  as  you  are.  Oh,  how  could 
she  be?" 

He  then  crept  up  to  a  corner  of  the  house  where 
he  could  see  and  hear.  Everything  showed  that 
Kitty  had  done  her  duty.  She  was  sitting  in  the 
center  of  some  twenty  women.  Some  were  fan 
ning  her;  some  were  crying.  Others  were  at  her 
back  conducting  a  mock  marriage.  The  men  and 
women  at  the  window  were  discussing  Regnan 
aloud. 

"He  should  never  marry  me  again,"  said  one 
woman. 

"I  would  never  let  the  first  marriage  stand," 
said  another. 

"Don't  be  too  hard  on  Regnan,"  spoke  up  one 
on  the  inside.  "Remember  his  widow  is  listening." 

"What  think  you  of  his  case?"  asked  a  young 
man  of  an  old  one. 

"Well,"  answered  the  old  man,  "old  Welby, 
who  was  a  wiser  man  than  Regnan,  killed  himself 
upon  a  similar  occasion." 

"Gentlemen,"  asked  the  woman  from  within, 
"do  you  think  that  Kitty  would  look  well  in  mourn- 
ing?" 


REGNAN'S   ANNIVERSARY         59 

The  women  on  the  outside  laughed.  Some  of 
those  on  the  inside  cried  aloud.  Kitty  buried  her 
head  in  her  hands. 

Regnan,  now  understanding  the  state  of  affairs, 
ran  into  the  room  and  cried:  "My  Kitty!"  His 
breeches  were  wet  and  muddy  and  he  had  on  the 
wet,  muddy  swallow-tailed  coat  and  vest.  He  held 
the  wet,  bedraggled  hat  in  one  hand  and  the 
broken  fiddle  in  the  other.  At  his  call  Kitty  made 
no  motion,  but  kept  her  face  hidden.  The  women 
formed  a  close  circle  around  her.  Those  on  the 
outside  sneered:  "My  Kitty!"  while  the  men 
yelled:  "Scat,  old  torn,  scat!"  and  "Is  he  drunk?" 
"Is  he  crazy?"  "Is  he  going  to  kill  Kitty?" 
"Help!  Help!  Call  an  officer!" 

These  were  some  of  the  cries  that  came  from 
different  parts  of  the  room.  Regnan  ran  around 
the  circle,  crying:  "My  Kitty!  Am  I  drunk? 
Am  I  crazy?  Am  I  going  to  kill  you,  Kitty?" 
Now  two  men  seized  Regnan  and  dragged  him 
toward  the  door. 

Just  then  the  preacher  entered  the  other  door, 
wet  and  muddy  from  head  to  foot.  He  raised  his 
hand,  and  Regnan  was  released.  Kitty,  noting  the 
hush,  peeped  through  her  fingers,  first  at  Regnan 
and  then  at  the  preacher.  There  was  a  tense 
silence.  The  preacher  now  spoke.  He  told  of 
Regnan's  trouble  with  the  fiddle,  clothes,  and 
pond. 


60  NEGRO   TALES 

"How  do  you  know?"  asked  Regnan. 

"It  was  my  boy  who  kept  the  vest,  coat,  and 
beaver  in  the  lead.  Tell  the  adventure  yourself." 

"Not  here !    I  will  tell  it  to  Kitty." 

"What  about  yourself,  parson?"  asked  Kitty. 

"While  on  my  way  here,"  said  the  preacher,  "I 
stopped  my  horse  at  the  pond  to  drink.  There 
was  a  noise  like  the  breaking  of  a  fiddle  string." 

"The  fiddle  again,"  interrupted  Regnan,  and 
held  it  up. 

"My  horse  became  frightened  and  ran  through 
the  pond.  I  fell  off,  waded  out,  and  have  not  seen 
the  horse  since." 

"That's  true,  ladies  and  gentlemen." 

"How  do  you  know?"  asked  the  preacher. 

"I  was  there,  parson."  Regnan  then  told  of 
the  chill,  the  broken  string,  and  the  accident  to 
the  rider. 

By  this  time  the  people  were  around  the  edges 
of  the  room,  leaving  Kitty,  Regnan,  and  the 
preacher  in  the  middle. 

Regnan  kissed  his  wife,  and  said:  "Are  you 
my  Kitty?" 

"Since  you  and  the  parson  are  so  much  alike 
in  dress  and  story,  he  may  answer  for  me." 

"I  will,  my  good  woman."  He  said  a  few 
solemn  words,  and  the  important  business  of  the 
night  was  over. 

For  many  days  the  town  was  alive  with  the 


REGNAN'S   ANNIVERSARY         61 

story  of  Regnan's  anniversary.  Thereafter,  when 
ever  Regnan  wished  to  tell  Kitty  the  story  he 
always  played  a  march  on  the  fiddle  first. 

The  preacher  later  turned  his  boy  over  to  Reg- 
nan  to  be  punished  for  his  mischief. 

It  was  decided  that  he  should  go  on  the  wagon 
with  Regnan  for  three  months  and  cry  out: 
"Rags,  old  iron."  The  lad  did  so  willingly.  Dur 
ing  his  enforced  apprenticeship  his  father  died, 
leaving  him  homeless,  as  his  mother  had  died  in 
his  infancy,  and  Regnan  adopted  the  boy,  who 
became  a  valuable  assistant  to  the  old  man  in  his 
business.  Before  the  lad  was  of  age  Regnan 
and  Kitty  both  died,  and  left  the  preacher's  son 
a  snug  little  fortune.  He  kept  the  fiddle  to  remind 
him  of  the  ways  of  Providence. 


"KOTCHIN'    DE   NINES" 

(A  NEGRO  TALE  CURRENT  IN  LOUISVILLE) 

"Git  up  from  dar.  Whut's  you  dreamin'  er- 
bout?  No  need  ter  ask,  fer  I  knows.  You's 
dreamin'  right  now  'bout  kotchin'  dem  nines.  I 
bounds  you  dun  had  er  dream  last  night.  I  knows 
it  by  dat  smile  in  de  corner  of  your  mouth.  You 
kin  smile  outen  both  corners,  ef  you  wants  ter, 
but  you  don't  git  dis  fifty  cents  I  got." 

"Old  woman,  I  got  er  new  dream." 

"Whut's  it  erbout?" 

"Dem  nines." 

"Look  heah,  old  man,  you  take  dat  dream  and 
yourself  an'  go  out  ter  dat  woodpile  so's  I  kin 
git  some  breakfast.  You's  got  er  dream,  an'  I'se 
got  fifty  cents,  an'  we's  gwine  ter  keep  whut  we 
has." 

"I'se  gwine  ter  tell  you  dis  dream,  ef  I  has  ter 
pay  you  ter  listen.  Take  dis  dime." 

"Make  your  story  mighty  short.     I  wonder  ef 

dis  heah  dime  is  tainted  money.     Ef  it  is 

Well,  I  reckons  it  ain't." 

62 


"KOTCHIN'    DE   NINES"  63 

"I  wuz  in  er  great  big  parlor,  an'  you  an'  de 
chillens  wuz  dar.  An'  it  wuz  in  er  great  big 
house,  an'  you  owns  it." 

"Wuz  I  bossin'  it?" 

"Oh,  yes!" 

"Go  on  wid  your  dream,  old  man." 

"Dat  parlor  wuz  so  fine  dat  when  you  sneezed 
you  asked  de  pictures  on  de  wall  ter  'scuse  you." 

"Go  on  wid  your  dream,  old  man.  We  kin 
habe  breakfast  at  dinner  time." 

"When  you  walked  on  de  cyarpet  you  fairly 
bounced  up  an'  down,  an1  when  de  chillens  played 
on  de  payano  you  said:  'Dis  ain't  heaven,  but 
we's  heah,  and  dat's  de  same  thing.'  De  spoons 
an'  knives  an'  forks  was  silver,  an' " 

"An'  you's  still  got  more  ter  say?" 

"Yes,  an'  everything  else  wuz  jes'  like  whut  de 
white  folks  has." 

"Whut  bringed  erbout  all  dat  in  your  dream?" 

"It  wuz  kotchin'  de  nines  in  de  lottery." 

"Is  you  sho  you  kin  kotch  'em  wid  your  eyes 
open?" 

"Dey's  bound  ter  come  wid  dat  dream  back 
of  'em." 

"Old  man,  you's  jes'  fishin'  'round  ter  borrow 
dis  fifty  cents  I'se  got." 

"Never  lend  money  when  you's  got  er  soft  snap 
like  dis,  old  woman.  Jes'  'vest  your  sixty  cents  in 
de  nines,  an'  I'll  do  all  de  rest.  De  nines  is 


64  NEGRO    TALES 

coming  an'  when  dey  comes  we'll  be  jes'  like  de 
white  folks." 

"Heah's  de  sixty  cents.     I'll  Vest  it." 

"Old  woman,  de  nines  is  yourn  now.  I'se  goin' 
erway  on  foot,  but  I'se  comin'  back  in  one  of  dese 
kerridges  on  top.  When  you  sees  me  comin', 
fling  oil  on  de  cabin  an'  burn  it  down.  I'll  be  on 
top  de  kerridge  in  all  my  dignity.  Habe  de  chil- 
lens  out  heah,  an'  let  'em  be  er  singin'  an'  er 
dancin'.  Keep  your  eye  on  de  road,  an'  when 
you  sees  er  little  speck  on  de  road,  why  dat's  me. 
When  I  gits  back  we'll  all  git  into  de  kerridge  an' 
drive  off  ter  er  new  home,  and  leave  de  cabin  in 
ashes.  Good-by,  old  woman,  till  I  comes  again." 

The  old  man  walked  into  the  city  to  play  the 
lottery.  He  thought  fifty  cents  would  be  enough 
to  invest  in  "de  nines,"  so  he  bought  ten  cents' 
worth  of  bananas  to  give  him  strength  to  stand  his 
new  fortune. 

"When  I'se  through  eatin',"  said  he,  "I'll  play 
de  nines." 

He  stood  on  a  stone  wall  that  overlooked  a 
row  of  public  carriages,  so  that  as  he  ate  he  could 
be  thinking  of  his  ride  back  home.  He  did  not 
think  of  the  harm  in  the  banana  peels  he  dropped 
upon  the  wall,  until  he  stepped  upon  one.  He 
fell  between  two  horses  hitched  to  a  carriage,  was 
kicked  by  them,  and  left  with  both  legs  broken. 

When  the  hackman  discovered  where  the  old 


"KOTCHIN'    DE   NINES"  65 

man  lived,  and  that  he  had  fifty  cents  on  his  per 
son,  he  had  the  injured  man  placed  on  top  of  the 
carriage,  took  a  seat  by  his  side,  and  drove  him 
home. 

The  old  man  was  now  thinking  of  the  bananas 
and  the  cabin,  and  his  wife  was  thinking  of  "de 
nines  an'  de  kerridge."  She  was  watching  the 
road.  When  the  old  man  saw  his  wife  in  the 
road,  and  remembering  his  parting  words  to  her, 
he  cried  out:  "Old  woman,  old  woman,  don't 
burn  de  cabin." 

She,  recalling  what  her  husband  had  told  her, 
and  thinking  he  was  calling  to  her  to  hurry  up 
and  fulfill  his  instructions,  called  to  the  children: 
"Fling  on  de  oil,  chillens!  Light  er  match  an' 
let  de  cabin  go  up  in  smoke,  fer  your  daddy  is 
er-comin'  on  his  own  kerridge  wid  all  his  dignity 
on  him.  Look  how  proper  his  legs  looks.  Dey 
is  straight  out  before  him  an'  his  arms  is  er-wavin'. 
He's  kotched  de  nines,  sho'.  Sing  an'  dance,  fer 
he's  kotched  de  nines!"  When  the  carriage 
stopped  the  old  woman  was  still  instructing  the 
children  in  their  work  of  destruction,  and  the 
cabin  was  ablaze. 

"Old  woman!"  called  the  old  man. 

"Stop,  chillens!"  screamed  she;  "dey's  sum- 
pin'  wrong  wid  your  daddy's  voice." 

"Yes,"  replied  he,  "an'  dey's  sumpin'  wrong 
wid  my  legs.  I  bought  a  dime's  worth  of  bananas, 


66  NEGRO   TALES 

an*  dis  man  charge  me  fifty  cents  ter  bring  me 
home  wid  both  legs  broke,  an'  dere  wuz  no  money 
left  ter  play  de  nines." 

"Husban',"  said  she,  "your  little  speech  don't 
'zackly  'splain  matters." 

The  old  man  said  nothing,  but  groaned  in  an 
guish. 

There  was  no  more  talking,  but  much  working 
over  legs ;  and  a  bright  day  dream  was  banished 
to  the  limbo  of  things  that  are  not. 


A  TOWN  SKETCH 

There  were  about  fifteen  hundred  people  in 
the  town  of  Lockburg.  Some  five  hundred  of 
these  were  negroes.  Nearly  every  white  man 
owned  his  home;  nearly  every  negro  owed  his 
rent.  Nearly  every  white  man  had  a  bank  ac 
count;  nearly  every  negro,  a  grocery  account. 
Renfroth,  the  banker,  was  an  ordinary  man  of 
the  white  race.  Jiles  Brennen,  the  smartest  negro 
in  a  circle  of  twenty  miles,  did  not  know  the  mean 
ing  of  interest.  White  children  listened  to  their 
parents,  read  the  daily  papers,  and  discussed  the 
signs  of  the  times.  Negro  children  paraded  the 
street,  delighted  in  being  out  of  sight  and  hearing 
of  their  parents,  and  but  few  could  tell  the  time 
of  day  on  the  face  of  a  clock.  The  white  teachers 
were  competent  and  faithful.  The  one  negro 
teacher  had  neither  legs  nor  training.  The  white 
people  returned  from  church  saying:  "These 
points  in  the  sermon  fit  right  into  our  business 
ventures.  These  show  our  need  of  moral  fiber 
and  the  remedy.  May  they  do  us  good,  as  the 
truth  always  does  the  meek  and  far-seeing."  The 


68  NEGRO   TALES 

negroes  returned  from  church  shouting  and  prais 
ing  some  "preaching  man." 

Jiles  Brennen  and  several  others  were  an  ex 
ception  to  this  rule.  Jiles  knew  most  of  the 
white  people  better  than  they  knew  themselves. 
When  he  conversed  with  them  he  always  "talked 
up."  He  knew  the  negroes  better  than  they 
wanted  to  know  themselves.  There  was  not  one 
who  could  not  repeat  a  score  of  "wayside  ser 
mons"  preached  by  Jiles.  "A  rat  to  its  hole,  and 
a  negro  to  his  folly,"  Jiles  used  to  say.  "When 
the  last  trumpet  sounds  some  negro  will  be  divid 
ing  his  time  between  saying  'amen'  to  a  sermon 
and  'cluck,  cluck'  to  his  neighbor's  chickens."  This 
remark  brought  Jiles  more  than  fame.  It  brought 
blood. 

"If  the  teacher  and  preacher  of  this  district 
were  killed  and  put  into  a  bag,  their  ghosts  would 
be  too  lazy  to  say  'Howdy.' '  When  the  preacher 
heard  this  he  offered  a  prayer  for  Jiles  that  was 
intended  to  remind  him  of  a  warm  region.  When 
the  teacher  heard  of  this  remark,  he  said:  "As 
I  have  no  legs  to  go  after  the  blackguard,  I  will 
let  him  come  to  his  sense  at  leisure." 

One  dark  night,  as  the  preacher  and  others 
were  crawling  across  a  creek  on  a  log  someone 
held  up  a  lantern  in  front  of  them. 

"Go  on,"  said  the  rest  to  the  preacher. 

"I  can't,"  replied  he.     "This  light  blinds  me." 


A  TOWN  SKETCH  69 

"Come  on,"  shouted  Jiles,  "my  light  has 
blinded  you  before." 

The  white  people  took  up  the  remark,  and  with 
it  fought  all  Jiles'  future  battles. 

Sickness  and  death  determined  negro  society  in 
Lockburg.  All  visited  the  sick.  All  attended  the 
funeral.  Why  should  not  all  attend  all  other 
functions?  All  answered  the  question  for  them 
selves,  and  attended  regularly. 

A  score  of  men  and  women  were  chatting  in 
Sister  Renfro's  bedroom  when  the  preacher 
peeped  in  at  the  door  and  paused  long  enough  to 
say:  "Come  out  to  'sifting  meeting'  to-night. 
Spread  the  news." 

"Will  Jiles  be  there  with  his  lantern?"  asked 
Neal  Grafton,  a  friend  of  Jiles. 

"Never  mind  about  that,"  answered  Sister  Ren- 
fro.  "Say  what  you  please  about  him,  but  he's 
a  preaching  man." 

Sister  Renfro's  guests  soon  began  to  spread 
the  news.  Neal  Grafton  was  the  most  active  of 
all.  He  stood  where  he  could  command  four 
corners. 

"Sister  Polly,"  he  called  to  a  rather  corpulent 
woman  who  was  passing  with  a  heavy  bundle 
of  clothes  on  her  head,  "stop  a  minute — 'sifting 
meeting'  to-night!" 

"What  you  say,  Brother  Grafton?  Come  here ! 
You  knows  I  can't  hear  like  I  used  to.  I  caught 


70  NEGRO   TALES 

cold  from  shouting  at  the  big  meeting  five  years 
ago.  Who  could  have  kept  sober  feet?  That 
was  a  preaching  man." 

"I  say,  Sister  Polly " 

"Now,  stop,  son.  Let  me  get  in  hearing  or 
der."  After  wiping  her  face  with  her  apron,  she 
said:  "Now  go  on,  son." 

"Sister  Polly,  there  will  be  a  'sifting  meet- 
ing' " 

"Hold,  son!  The  bundle  comes  down  over  my 
ears.  Raise  it  a  little.  A  'sifting  meeting'? 
Where?  Oh!  at  the  church?  Raise  up  the 
bundle  again,  son.  Now  hold  it  there.  Now 
tell  me  about  it." 

"That's  all,  Sister  Polly." 

"No!  No!  It's  been  five  years  since  we  had 
one.  You  heard  your  mother  tell  about  it,  didn't 
you?" 

"Yes,  but " 

"I  know  you  did;  she  was  there.  Sister  Ren- 
fro  was  there.  I  was  there.  It  was  a  glorious 
time." 

"Yes,  Sister  Polly,  but " 

"My  head's  just  beginning  to  rest,  son.  Well, 
the  negroes  lied  and  lied,  but  one  told  the  truth." 

"May  I  put  the  bundle  on  the  ground?" 

"The  clothes  are  clean,  son.  I'll  head  them 
again  soon.  That  sister  told  the  truth  and  her 
head  fell.  Hold  a  little  longer." 


A  TOWN  SKETCH  71 

"Oh,  my  arms,  Sister  Polly!" 

"Hold  till  I  raise  up  that  woman's  head.  I'll 
listen  afterward." 

"After  I  take  the  bundle?"  "No,  son.  Hand  it 
here.  'Sifting  meeting'  at  the  church?  I'll  be 
there." 

Sister  Polly  went  on  humming,  and  left  Grafton 
rubbing  his  arms.  He  notified  a  number  of  others, 
at  a  distance. 

Polly  delivered  the  clothes  and  mentioned  the 
"sifting  meeting." 

"What  is  such  a  meeting,  Polly?"  asked  her 
employer. 

"It's  a  meeting  where  you  tell  what  you  don't 
know  and  where  people  know  what  you  don't  tell. 
If  you  want  more  light,  come  to  the  meeting. 
Good-by,  I'm  in  a  hurry,"  answered  Polly.  Her 
employer  was  content  to  hear  from  the  meeting. 

An  hour  before  meeting  time  Sisters  Polly  and 
Renfro  were  ready.  They  had  spent  considerable 
time  arranging  their  hair.  Polly's  hair  was  rolled 
around  a  saucer  that  belonged  to  her  employer. 
Sister  Renfro's  was  put  into  the  same  shape  by 
means  of  the  flounce  of  an  old  black  dress. 

Just  then  one  might  have  seen  forty  or  fifty 
people,  moving  in  single  file,  led  by  one  with  a 
lantern.  There  were  no  lights  in  the  town.  It 
was  customary  for  someone  with  a  lantern  to 
come  along  and  gather  up  the  church-goers.  The 


72  NEGRO   TALES 

leader  to-night  was  Grafton.  Sisters  Polly  and 
Renfro  joined  the  procession  in  the  rear.  It 
moved  silently  on  to  the  end  of  the  little  bridge, 
when  Sister  Renfro  stumped  her  foot  and  fell. 
Sister  Polly,  in  trying  to  assist  her,  fell  also.  Both 
had  to  return  home,  and  were  late  in  reaching  the 
meeting.  Grafton  led  the  procession  into  the 
church. 

The  church  was  cold,  and  fairly  well  filled  with 
smoke.  The  sexton  was  rubbing  his  eyes.  The 
preacher  with  closed  eyes  was  tapping  his  foot 
and  humming  a  hymn.  Grafton  suggested  that 
the  windows  and  doors  be  opened  a  few  min 
utes,  but  the  preacher  demurred,  saying  that  it 
was  too  cold.  In  consequence,  the  cloud-laden 
condition  of  the  room  was  not  altered.  It  is  dif 
ficult  to  understand  how  the  congregation  re 
mained  in  that  smoky  room  two  hours;  but  they 
did  so. 

The  next  day  Neal  Grafton  reported  the  pro 
ceedings  of  the  church  to  Jiles  Brennen,  and  it 
took  Jiles  just  six  months  to  laugh  usifting  meet 
ings"  out  of  the  town  and  the  community. 

Sisters  Polly  and  Renfro  declared  the  preacher 
stopped  the  meeting  to  keep  them  from  showing 
their  new  style  of  head-dress,  and  it  took  him 
a  year  to  live  down  the  accusation. 

"Is  your  head  well?" 

"Not  quite.    Is  yours  ?" 


A  TOWN  SKETCH  73 

"Well  it's  doing  better  than  it  did  after  the 
other  'sifting  meeting.'  '  These  remarks  and 
others  of  like  tone  showed  the  nature  of  the 
meeting,  and  also  served  to  divide  the  congre 
gation. 

And  the  teacher?  He  did  not  count,  and  never 
had  a  wish  to. 


THE   STUMP  OF  A   CIGAR 

Stump  of  cigar,  as  I  am,  I  have  a  history  that 
is  interwoven  with  that  of  human  beings.  When 
I  was  in  the  form  of  seed  I  was  safely  housed  in 
a  nice  glass  jar  in  a  large  seed  store.  For  some 
reason  or  other  I  was  given  the  best  shelf  in  the 
show  window. 

One  day  a  beautiful  young  lady  came  into  the 
store  and  priced  me. 

"Why,"  said  the  clerk,  "that  is " 

"Never  mind,"  said  she,  "what  it  is.  I  simply 
Want  to  know  the  price." 

He  told  her;  she  paid  it,  and  bore  me  off  grace 
fully. 

"Ah,"  said  I  to  myself,  "I  shall  never  again 
see  the  young  man  who  comes  every  day  and  stops 
opposite  the  show-window."  One  windy  day, 
as  he  stood  in  his  usual  place,  a  lady's  hat  came 
rolling  along  the  pavement.  What  immediately 
followed  this  will  be  told  further  on. 

As  I  said  before,  the  lady  bore  me  off  grace 
fully.  It  was  night  when  she  entered  her  well- 
lighted  apartment.  "She  will  examine  me," 

74 


THE   STUMP   OF  A   CIGAR        75 

thought  I,  "and  sniff  me.  Then  how  I  will  wor 
ship  the  tears  that  fall  from  her  eyes." 

However,  I  received  no  such  attention  as  I  had 
anticipated,  for  the  young  lady  simply  placed  me 
in  the  center  of  a  large  table,  sounded  a  bell, 
and  began  to  talk,  as  if  addressing  someone 
present. 

"You  were  there,  weren't  you?  You  will  take 
me  at  my  word,  will  you?  Let's  see.  This  is  how 
it  will  go."  She  then  walked  to  the  middle  of 
the  floor  and  acted  out  a  little  play  that  will  be 
given  further  on.  As  she  finished,  she  turned  to 
a  young  woman  who  was  standing  in  the  door 
and  said  harshly:  "What  do  you  want?" 

"The  bell  sounded,"  replied  the  young  woman. 

"That  was  not  for  you,"  said  she.  "That  was 
for  the  devil."  She  threw  a  glass  at  the  young 
woman  and  left  the  room.  Several  times  during 
the  night  I  heard  her  say:  "That  was  not  for 
you.  It  was  for  the  devil." 

At  eight  the  next  morning  the  servants  put 
breakfast  on  the  table,  leaving  me  still  in  the 
middle.  At  ten  minutes  past  eight  my  mistress, 
whom  I  shall  call  Ladybug,  came  into  the  room 
and  addressed  a  little  speech  to  me  that  I  did  not 
understand  until  matters  grew  much  more  serious. 
You  could  not  understand  it  at  this  point,  so  it 
will  not  be  given  now.  Five  minutes  later  the 
young  woman  who  had  been  chased  out  of  the 


76  NEGRO   TALES 

room  the  night  before,  came  in.  For  the  sake  of 
convenience  I  shall  call  her  Butterfly.  I  was  as 
tonished  to  see  Ladybug  embrace  Butterfly  and 
kiss  her  twenty  times  on  the  forehead.  I  thought 
this  a  bit  of  amusing  comedy.  I  afterwards  found 
it  stern  tragedy. 

They  sat  opposite  each  other  at  the  table  and 
remained  about  thirty  minutes.  They  spent  the 
time  talking  and  smiling.  They  did  not  eat  in 
the  common  acceptation  of  the  term. 

Ladybug  rolled  her  chicken  into  nicely  rounded 
balls  and  tossed  them  down  her  throat.  Butterfly 
soaked  her  chicken  and  bread  in  milk  and  drank 
the  milk. 

They  finished  this  unusual  task  together,  and 
started  to  leave  the  room,  hand  in  hand,  when 
Ladybug,  glancing  at  the  clock,  whispered  to  But 
terfly:  "I  must  go;  it  is  time  for  me  to  test  his 
heroism  and  devotion." 

Coming  to  where  I  rested,  Ladybug  picked  me 
up,  pressed  me  closely  to  her  heart,  and  left  the 
room,  carrying  me  with  her.  She  went  straight  to 
a  nearby  lake,  and  entered  a  little  boat,  in  which 
sat  a  lone  individual.  It  was  the  young  man  who 
had  stood  so  often  opposite  the  show-window. 
Ladybug  took  a  seat  in  the  boat,  and  in  silence 
the  young  man  rowed  across  the  waters. 

Two  hours  on  the  lake  were  we,  and  no  words 
were  spoken.  Then  rising,  still  in  silence,  Lady- 


THE   STUMP   OF  A   CIGAR        77 

bug  hurled  me  upon  the  bosom  of  the  lake. 
Twenty  times  I  was  thrown  into  the  water,  and 
nineteen  times  rescued  by  the  young  man.  The 
twentieth  time?  It  was  fate  and  heroism.  Lady- 
bug  pressed  me  closely  and  began  to  rock  from 
side  to  side.  This  she  did  twenty  times,  each 
time  more  and  more  violently.  Her  great  black 
eyes  seemed  to  burn  into  his  all  the  while. 

She  then  once  again  tossed  me  into  the  water — 
and  leaped  after  me.  This  was  the  action  of  the 
play  she  rehearsed  out  in  her  room  that  night 
when  first  I  came.  The  young  man  followed 
Ladybug  in  her  mad  plunge,  and  at  length  suc 
ceeded  in  bringing  her  to  their  craft.  Ten  min 
utes  later  she  was  stretched  out  upon  a  boat,  alive 
but  unconscious.  The  young  man  was  flesh  for 
the  fish,  and  I  was  in  possession  of  a  country 
man. 

When  Ladybug  regained  consciousness  and 
learned  that  the  young  man  had  been  drowned, 
she  said:  "My  lover  is  free.  Hell  cannot  hold 
him.  Human  blood  and  water  have  atoned  for 
his  crime."  This  is  the  little  speech  she  addressed 
to  me  that  first  morning.  Then  it  had  been  put 
in  the  future  tense. 

Twelve  months  later  a  beggar  gave  Butterfly  a 
hand  of  tobacco  for  his  supper.  While  he  ate 
she  rolled  the  best  leaf  into  me,  placed  me  between 
her  teeth,  and  left  the  room.  Soon  Ladybug  en- 


78  NEGRO   TALES 

tered,  sounded  a  bell,  as  was  her  nightly  custom, 
and  waited. 

In  a  few  minutes  a  hideous  form  entered,  smok 
ing  me. 

"I  am  the  devil,"  said  the  shape. 

"I  am  his  mistress,"  said  Ladybug,  and  seized 
the  shape  by  the  throat.  The  beggar,  whom 
Ladybug  had  not  seen,  and  whom  Butterfly  had 
forgotten,  was  present,  and  tried  to  separate  them. 
In  so  doing  he  caused  me  to  get  entangled  in  the 
laces  worn  by  the  woman,  communicating  my  fire 
to  the  flimsy  garments.  Now,  the  hideous  form 
was  Butterfly.  Soon  the  clothing  of  both  was 
ablaze,  when  they  were  darting  about  the  room, 
the  beggar  trying  to  help  first  one  and  then  the 
other.  Both  fell  across  the  piano  about  the  same 
time,  and  began  to  reach  out,  as  if  to  clamber 
from  the  flames.  In  this  way  they  played,  as  it 
were,  their  own  dirge.  When  the  sounds  ceased 
they  were  dead.  A  mystery?  Yes!  No! 

On  the'morning  of  the  wedding-day  a  groom-to- 
be  sailed  out  upon  the  lake.  Said  he  to  himself: 
"Christian  people  say  that  he  who  provides  not 
for  his  household  is  worse  than  an  infidel,  and 
that  a  millstone  had  better  be  placed  about  his 
neck  and  be  sunk  into  the  sea.  What  have  I  for 
wife  and  children?  Prosperity  has  passed  me  by. 
Friends  are  not  friends.  Fate  is  my  executioner." 


THE   STUMP   OF  A   CIGAR        79 

Three  days  after  this  his  body  was  recovered 
and  buried. 

The  preacher  said  to  the  people:  "Suicide  is 
an  unpardonable  sin.  The  young  man,  therefore, 
who  was  of  noble  birth  and  parentage,  who  was 
chaste  in  life  and  honorable  in  business,  is  in 
hell." 

Ladybug,  the  dead  man's  fiancee,  believed  the 
rash-judging  preacher.  She  soon  lost  her  reason. 
Then  came  upon  her  the  hallucinations  that 
wrought  the  other  tragedies.  She  believed  that  if 
her  lover's  twin  brother,  the  young  man  of  the 
fatal  boat  ride,  would  stand  opposite  the  seed 
store  for  twenty  days,  and  then  perish  as  de 
scribed  in  the  boat  ride,  her  lover  would  be  re 
leased  from  hell  and  returned  to  her.  Ladybug, 
among  other  hallucinations,  believed  that  the 
number  twenty  held  potent  virtues;  hence,  the 
twenty  days,  twenty  kisses,  and  the  like.  The 
lover  was  twenty  years  old,  hence  Ladybug's 
counting  by  twenties.  The  twin  brother  out  of 
pity  consented  to  humor  her  whim,  not  thinking 
it  would  cost  him  his  life. 

Ladybug  passed  the  seed  store  every  day  to 
see  if  he  was  true  to  his  pact.  As  she  passed 
the  twentieth  day,  her  hat  blew  off.  He  started  to 
get  it,  but  she  said:  "Let  it  be.  Some  of  my 
troubles  may  roll  away  with  it.  I  will  be  at  the 
boat  to-morrow  morning  with  a  charm.  Then  my 


8o  NEGRO   TALES 

lover  shall  live  again.  Blood  and  water  shall 
atone  for  his  crimes." 

She  immediately  bought  me  of  the  clerk.  There 
was  no  logic  in  this  part  of  the  affair.  She  simply 
thought  the  first  thing  her  eyes  fell  upon  would 
serve  her  purpose. 

To  make  sure  of  her  lover's  return,  she  would 
also  practice  upon  Butterfly,  her  sister.  But 
terfly,  too,  submitted  to  humor  her  whim. 

The  embraces  and  twenty  kisses  were  the  be 
ginning  of  this. 

Butterfly  of  her  own  accord  had  dressed  and 
acted  the  devil  on  the  fatal  night,  in  the  hope  that 
the  appearance  of  the  devil  would  act  as  a  counter- 
shock,  and  restore  Ladybug's  reason  again.  The 
presence  of  the  beggar  was  a  mere  accident.  The 
hand  of  tobacco  out  of  which  I  was  made  was 
ground  from  the  jar  of  seed  left  with  the  country 
man. 

As  I  lay  upon  the  floor  that  dreadful  night  and 
saw  Ladybug  and  Butterfly  lying  dead  across  the 
piano,  I  said  to  myself:  "Stump  of  cigar,  as  I 
am,  I  have  a  history." 


A   RUSTIC   COMEDY 

Abraham  and  Ruth,  his  wife,  were  stingy  and 
childless.  Three  children  had  come  to  them, 
whose  taking  off  left  Abraham  embittered  against 
men.  Ruth  often  said:  "Complain  not,  Abra 
ham,  my  man.  Is  not  an  angel  more  than  a 
child?  The  little  ones  were  your  flesh,  but  my 
soul.  Complain  not,  Abraham,  my  man." 

Abraham  had  met,  wooed,  and  wed  Ruth  in  the 
fields,  and  ever  afterward  kept  her  there.  Side 
by  side  they  toiled,  eating  little,  visiting  seldom, 
and  ever  replenishing  the  money-bag  at  the  bot 
tom  of  the  meal  barrel.  At  the  time  of  this  inci 
dent  the  money  bag  was  full  and  the  meal  barrel 
was  about  empty. 

It  was  winter,  and  the  old  couple  had  just  re 
turned  from  a  visit  to  a  neighbor.  As  Abraham 
stirred  the  fire  he  said:  "Ruth,  we  are  getting 
old  and  must  soon  be  done  with  things  earthly. 
We  have  toiled  hard  and  been  a  little  saving. 
The  neighbors  have  never  had  the  opportunity  of 
finding  fault  with  your  cooking;  nor  has  the  good 
parson  ever  had  the  hardihood  to  look  this  way 

81 


82  NEGRO   TALES 

for  a  contribution.  I  have  been  thinking  of  the 
best  way  to  dispose  of  our  wealth  just  before  the 
breath  leaves  our  bodies.  Ruth,  like  yourself,  I 
have  always  been  pious-minded  and  desirous  of 
doing  something  that  will  benefit  the  neighbors, 
and  at  the  same  time  start  their  tongues  to  wag 
ging  about  our  good  parts.  It  strikes  me  the 
best  way  to  do  this  is  to  leave  our  money  to  erect 
a  parsonage  and  to  place  a  bell  in  the  chapel.  The 
bell  will  spread  our  fame  above,  and  the  women 
who  visit  the  parson's  wife  will  spread  it  below. 
I  know  from  experience,  Ruth,  that  it  is  a  bless 
ing  as  well  as  a  curse  to  have  one's  acts  linked 
with  the  tongue  of  a  woman.  Now,  what  think 
you?" 

"Abraham,"  said  Ruth,  "I  have  always  thought 
you  had  some  good  aim  stuck  away  in  your  soul; 
and  as  time  rolled  on  your  good  angel  would  dis 
cover  it  to  you.  This  is  why  I  have  seldom  dif 
fered  from  you.  Why  wait  until  we  die  to  have 
this  done?  Let  us  take  our  savings  of  years  to 
morrow  and  place  them  in  the  hands  of  the 
parson." 

"You  have  spoken  wisely,  my  dear  wife,"  said 
Abraham.  "It  shall  be  done." 

After  kissing  Ruth,  Abraham  turned  and  stirred 
the  fire.  Just  then  someone  knocked  at  the  door. 
Abraham  opened  it,  and  in  came  a  stalwart  stran 
ger,  carrying  a  pair  of  saddle-bags.  He  asked 


A    RUSTIC    COMEDY  83 

for  supper  and  a  night's  lodging.  The  old  couple 
frankly  told  him  they  had  no  supper  for  him, 
but  he  was  welcome  to  warm  by  the  fire  and  sleep 
in  the  loft.  He  gladly  accepted  their  proffer,  and 
took  his  seat  by  the  fire.  Soon  he  began  to  spin 
yarns  of  all  lengths  and  descriptions,  and  ended 
by  telling  how,  while  stopping  with  an  old  couple, 
he  had  kept  them  from  being  robbed.  After  this 
he  crept  upstairs  and  retired. 

When  Abraham  thought  the  stranger  was 
asleep  he  told  his  wife  to  prepare  an  ashcake  for 
their  supper.  She  told  him  there  would  not  be 
meal  enough  if  she  threw  away  the  husk. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "put  in  husk  and  all." 

The  ashcake  was  soon  spread  upon  the  hearth 
and  covered  with  hot  ashes.  Abraham  bowed  his 
head  as  though  to  ask  a  blessing. 

"Not  yet,"  said  Ruth.  "We  are  told  there  may 
be  many  a  slip  between  the  cup  and  the  lip."  Here 
they  were  interrupted  by  a  noise  from  above. 

"My  dear  friends,"  said  the  stranger,  as  he 
tumbled  downstairs.  "I  forgot  to  tell  you  how 
my  land  runs."  He  took  the  poker,  and,  placing 
it  in  the  middle  of  the  ashcake,  and  moving  it  in 
keeping  with  the  words,  said : 

"My  land  runs  north,  south,  east,  and  west; 
then,  coming  back  to  the  middle,  it  runs  around 
and  around."  Having  thus  ruined  the  ashcake, 
he  went  back  upstairs.  After  a  considerable  si- 


84  NEGRO    TALES 

lence,  Abraham  said:  "The  Lord  giveth  and  the 
Lord  taketh,  and  blessed  be  the  rope  that  hangeth 
the  stranger." 

After  removing  their  treasure  from  the  meal 
barrel  and  almost  worshipping  it,  they  returned  it 
and  retired.  They  were  soon  fast  asleep,  but  the 
stranger  was  not.  Hours  passed,  and  still  the 
stranger  was  awake.  Before  knocking  at  the  door 
to  be  admitted  he  had  heard  the  old  couple's 
talk  concerning  their  money,  and  what  they  in 
tended  to  do  with  it  the  next  day.  He  had  also 
seen  them  take  it  from  the  barrel,  and  replace  it. 
He  was  now  thinking  about  it.  What  were  his 
thoughts?  Was  he  planning  some  way  to  rob 
them?  Was  he  thinking  how  he  might  protect 
them  in  a  case  of  emergency?  Hearing  a  noise 
below,  he  crawled  to  the  opening  and  looked  down. 
He  saw  that  the  side  window  had  been  opened. 
Looking  farther,  he  saw  a  man  stooping  over  the 
meal  barrel.  With  the  greatest  precaution  he  de 
scended  and  slipped  up  behind  the  man  and  soon 
gagged  him  with  a  handkerchief.  He  held  the 
intruder  easily  by  pressing  him  against  the  bar 
rel.  Beside  the  barrel  lay  a  meal  sack.  This  the 
stranger  slipped  over  the  intruder's  head  and 
arms,  and  wrapped  him  around  with  a  rope  that 
was  lying  near.  By  this  time  Abraham  and  his 
wife  were  awake. 

"Look,"  said  the  stranger,  "what  I  have  done 


A    RUSTIC    COMEDY  85 

for  you.  This  thief  almost  had  your  treasure 
when  I  apprehended  him.  He  is  all  right,  now. 
Where  shall  I  put  him.  What  about  this  closet 
here  ?  You  know  we  must  keep  him  until  morn 
ing  and  turn  him  over  to  the  officers."  With  this 
the  stranger  dragged  the  robber  into  the  closet. 

"Let  us  have  more  light,"  said  Ruth. 

uNo,"  said  the  stranger;  "there  may  be  more. 
Light  might  frighten  them  away.  I  want  to  serve 
you  well  to-night.  You  know  I  owe  you  a  little 
something  for  listening  to  how  my  land  runs." 

"What  was  that  white  something,"  said  Ruth, 
"you  had  over  the  fellow's  head?" 

"It  was  a  meal  sack,"  said  the  stranger. 

"That  is  strange,  indeed,"  said  Ruth.  "There 
was  not  a  meal  sack  on  the  place  when  we  went  to 
bed." 

"This  is  a  strange  night,"  said  the  stranger.  "I 
am  your  friend,  and  yet  I  am  so  strange  I  would 
not  let  you  eat  that  delicious  ashcake.  Go  to  bed, 
Aunt  Ruth.  Uncle  Abraham  and  I  will  watch 
the  thieves.  The  Lord  giveth  and  the  Lord 
taketh;  and,  Uncle  Abraham,  will  you  finish  the 
rest  of  it?" 

Abraham  said  nothing.  He  thought  the  stran 
ger  was  getting  very  familiar;  but  since  he  had 
done  them  such  a  good  turn  they  could  stand  al 
most  anything  at  his  hands. 

Ruth  could  not  return  to  bed  without  first  look- 


86  NEGRO   TALES 

ing  into  the  meal  barrel  in  search  of  her  treasure. 
It  was  there,  and  around  it  were  a  dozen  or  more 
bundles. 

"How  is  this?"  said  she.  "It  is  quite  an  honest 
thief  that  will  take  one  treasure  and  leave  an 
other." 

"Be  not  deceived,"  said  the  stranger;  "a  thief 
is  by  honor  as  a  criminal  is  by  his  chains.  A 
criminal  does  not  worry  himself  and  bruise  his 
hands  against  his  chains  because  he  wishes  to 
atone  for  his  evil  ways,  but  in  order  to  get  loose  so 
that  he  may  continue  his  crimes.  Whenever  a 
thief  puts  forth  an  act  that  smacks  of  honor,  it  is 
simply  that  he  may  conduct  his  business  on  a 
larger  scale.  Don't  you  see  the  point,  Aunt  Ruth? 
The  thief  we  have  in  the  closet  stole  those  things 
somewhere  else.  He  was  afraid  to  leave  them 
outside  lest  someone  should  steal  them  from  him. 
When  he  saw  your  bag  of  money  was  so  heavy 
he  could  not  take  them  both,  he  concluded  to 
leave  the  things  and  take  the  money." 

"Why  did  he  take  the  pains  to  put  them  into 
the  barrel?"  said  Ruth. 

"That  is  clear  enough,"  said  the  stranger. 
"Had  he  put  them  on  the  floor  you  might  have 
stumbled  over  them  before  morning  and  had  your 
attention  drawn  to  the  robbery  ere  he  could  have 
gotten  out  of  the  neighborhood.  By  the  way,  he 
must  have  had  the  bundles  in  that  sack  in  which 


A    RUSTIC    COMEDY  87 

he  is  now  safely  housed.  He  had  emptied  the 
sack  before  I  saw  him,  and,  I  think,  was  stooping 
over  to  lift  out  the  bag  of  money."  Ruth  and 
Abraham  accepted  this  as  a  logical  argument,  and 
Ruth  was  soon  in  bed  and  asleep. 

"I  think  I  hear  footsteps,"  said  Abraham  to  the 
stranger. 

"I  am  quite  sure  of  that,  sir,"  said  the  stranger. 
"I  will  settle  him  about  as  I  did  the  first.  I  have 
a  handkerchief.  You  get  a  bed  quilt  and  a  cord 
and  follow  me."  They  walked  into  the  yard,  the 
stranger  leading.  In  the  distance  they  saw  a  figure 
approaching. 

"Let  us  go  a  little  farther  over  this  way,"  said 
the  stranger.  The  words  were  hardly  out  of  his 
mouth  before  he  uttered  a  groan.  When  Abra 
ham  looked,  the  stranger  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 
Another  groan,  however,  located  him.  He  had 
fallen  into  an  old  cistern.  On  turning,  Abraham 
stumbled  over  a  ladder.  With  this  the  stranger 
was  soon  rescued. 

By  this  time  they  could  see  that  the  approaching 
figure  was  a  man  with  something  like  a  sack  on 
his  shoulder.  Instead  of  coming  straight  to  them 
he  turned  his  course  a  little  in  order  to  reach  the 
side  window. 

"Uncle  Abraham,"  said  the  stranger,  "while 
we  are  out  here  wrestling  with  this  fellow,  some 
Other  one  might  go  in  and  make  off  with  the  bag 


88  NEGRO    TALES 

of  money.  Don't  you  think  you  had  better  bring 
it  out  and  hold  to  it?  I  can  handle  this  chap." 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Abraham;  "it  is  a  good 
thought." 

He  accordingly  returned  to  the  house,  brought 
out  his  treasure,  and  sat  down  by  the  side  of  it, 
watching  the  newcomer. 

The  man  with  the  sack  walked  up  to  the  win 
dow  and  leaned  the  sack  against  the  house.  He 
then  deliberately  opened  the  window  and  peeped 
in,  placing  himself  in  very  much  the  same  position 
as  had  the  one  who  had  stooped  over  the  barrel. 
Stepping  swiftly  up  to  the  window,  before  the  man 
could  remove  his  head,  the  stranger  had  him 
gagged.  In  another  minute  he  had  been  enfolded 
in  the  quilt,  with  a  cord  fast  around  him. 

"I  groaned  in  yonder  sinkhole,"  said  the 
stranger,  "but  you  shall  both  groan  and  sleep  in 
there  the  rest  of  the  night,  if  you  sleep  at  all." 
With  this  he  rolled  the-  latest  intruder  into  the  old 
cistern  and  placed  boards  across  it. 

"Uncle  Abraham,"  said  the  stranger,  "you  take 
the  money  and  I'll  bring  in  the  sack.  Aunt  Ruth, 
we  have  another  of  your  honest  thieves.  He  is 
out  in  the  old  cistern,  thinking  how  he  will  not 
use  your  money.  See  what  he  has  left  you?" 

Removing  the  contents  of  the  sack,  they  so 
filled  the  barrel  that  there  was  no  room  for  the 
bag  of  money. 


A    RUSTIC    COMEDY  89 

"Young  man,  my  dear  young  man,"  said  Abra 
ham,  "there  are  no  family  ties  between  us,  as  far 
as  I  know,  but  I  find  myself  drawn  as  closely  to 
you  as  a  father  to  his  son.  I  could  trust  you  with 
our  lives,  much  less  with  our  money.  Keep  watch 
over  the  bag  of  money  while  we  take  a  good, 
solid  nap." 

The  old  couple  were  soon  fast  asleep.  About 
four  o'clock  Ruth  awoke  and  said:  "Abraham, 
the  door  is  open." 

"So  it  is,"  said  Abraham. 

"But — but — Ruth,  where  is  the  stranger?" 

"But — but — Abraham,  where  is  the  bag  of 
money?" 

Sure  enough,  both  stranger  and  money  were 
gone. 

"I  thought  he  was  claiming  kin  a  little  too 
soon,"  said  Ruth.  "These  folks  who  claim  kin  so 
soon  are  just  like  the  folks  who  come  to  your 
house  and  tell  you  one  lie  about  your  neighbor  in 
order  to  get  you  to  tell  a  hundred.  Then  they  will 
have  a  sufficient  stock  to  supply  the  whole  neigh 
borhood.  Is  the  fellow  in  the  closet  safe?" 

"I'll  see." 

"How  about  the  one  in  the  cistern?" 

"Safe,  too,"  said  Abraham.  "We  will  turn 
them  over  to  the  officers  as  early  in  the  day  as 
possible,  and  then  set  them  on  the  trail  of  the 
stranger.  Maybe  he  will  have  some  of  the  money 


9o  NEGRO   TALES 

when  caught.  In  the  meantime,  what  shall  we  do 
to  keep  up  our  spirits  until  it  is  good  and  light?" 

"I  never  in  my  life,"  said  Ruth,  "felt  more 
like  hearing  a  prayer  by  Deacon  Brindlebee  and 
a  sermon  by  Parson  Prudence." 

"Why,  look,"  said  Abraham,  "the  rogue  has 
left  his  saddle-bags.  Let's  see  what  is  in  them." 

He  opened  one  side  and  drew  out  a  copy  of  an 
old  newspaper.  He  unfolded  it,  and  there  was 
a  sermon  on  Patience  by  the  identical  Parson  Pru 
dence. 

"Ah,"  said  Ruth,  "the  rogue  has  also  left  his 
hat.  What's  in  it?" 

There  was  a  folded  paper  between  the  hat  and 
inner  band.  This  she  opened,  and  found  that, 
among  other  things,  it  contained  a  prayer  by  Dea 
con  Brindlebee. 

"Now  we  have  them,"  said  Ruth.  "Let  us  take 
our  minds  off  rogues  and  place  them  on  the  words 
of  these  holy  men.  It  would  be  far  better  to 
have  them  here,  but  let  us  stammer  through  them 
as  best  we  can." 

For  nearly  two  hours  Abraham  and  Ruth 
prayed  the  deacon's  prayer  and  preached  the  par 
son's  sermon.  When  six  o'clock  came  they  were 
still  so  carried  away  with  the  prayer  and  sermon 
that  they  were  not  conscious  of  the  presence  of 
two  men  who  were  standing  near  the  door  until 
they  spoke. 


A    RUSTIC    COMEDY  91 

"What's  up  now,  Abraham  ?"  said  one  of  them. 
"Have  robbers  been  about?" 

"Pretty  officers  are  you,"  said  Abraham.  "You 
should  have  been  here  last  night.  We  have  been 
entertaining  robbers  the  whole  night.  Their  aim 
was  to  rob  us  of  our  life's  savings.  One  was 
good  enough  to  entrap  the  others,  so  that  you  will 
have  no  trouble  in  securing  them.  Then,  as  soon 
as  we  were  asleep,  he  took  the  bag  of  money  and 
made  off  with  it.  Assemble  the  whole  neighbor 
hood,  and  I  will  turn  two  of  them  over  to  you." 

In  a  short  time  nearly  every  man,  woman,  and 
child  in  the  neighborhood  was  there.  The  man 
in  the  closet  was  dragged  out  and  laid  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor.  The  one  in  the  cistern  was 
hauled  up  and  laid  by  his  side.  Then  Abraham 
told  the  people  how  he  and  Ruth  had  labored 
through  forty  years  to  save  the  money;  how  at 
last  they  intended  to  spend  it  for  a  parsonage  and 
a  bell  for  Parson  Prudence's  church,  and  how  the 
rogues  lying  before  them  tried  to  steal  it,  and 
were  prevented  and  captured  by  the  other  and 
greater  thief,  who  succeeded  in  getting  away 
with  it. 

The  people  grew  furious.  Some  wanted  to 
hang  them;  others  wanted  to  drown  and  bury 
them.  One  good  deacon  declared  that  it  would 
be  a  great  advantage  for  such  characters  to  go  to 
torment  bundled  up  in  that  way,  for,  after  they 


92  NEGRO   TALES 

were  in  and  their  wraps  were  burned  off,  the  devil 
would  not  know  when  they  had  come  in  nor  what 
they  had  done. 

"Let  us  do  nothing  rashly,"  said  Ruth.  "These 
poor  souls  may  never  hear  another  prayer  or 
sermon.  Let  some  brother  come  forth  and  read 
Deacon  Brindlebee's  prayer  and  another  read 
Parson  Prudence's  sermon." 

Two  brethren  came  forth  and  conducted  the 
services,  after  which  the  two  men  were  untied  and 
uncovered.  To  the  surprise  and  consternation  of 
all,  there  lay  Parson  Prudence  and  Deacon  Brin- 
dlebee.  The  men  were  so  chilled  and  cramped  it 
was  fully  an  hour  before  they  could  make  them 
selves  understood. 

In  the  meantime  other  scenes  took  place. 

"The  very  thought  of  a  parson  and  a  deacon 
turning  thieves,"  said  some,  "is  enough  to  give 
every  sinner  a  license  to  miss  heaven." 

"The  parson  and  the  deacon  are  innocent,"  said 
others.  "This  old  scoundrel  and  his  wife,  and 
maybe  someone  else,  have  played  a  trick  on  them. 
Where  did  they  get  money  enough  to  buy  a  par 
sonage  and  a  bell?  They  have  always  lived  from 
hand  to  mouth.  During  forty  years  they  have 
never  had  enough  to  give  a  neighbor  a  meal,  and 
were  never  known  to  give  the  smallest  contribu 
tion  to  the  church.  Gag  them  and  serve  them  as 
they  have  served  our  parson  and  deacon." 


A    RUSTIC    COMEDY  93 

The  men  seized  Abraham,  gagged  him,  and 
lowered  him  into  the  cistern.  The  women  served 
Ruth  in  the  same  way  and  stored  her  away  in  the 
closet. 

At  this  point  the  storekeeper  stood  upon  the 
edge  of  the  barrel  and  said: 

"Parson  Prudence  and  Deacon  Brindlebee  came 
to  my  place  last  night  and  bought  two  sacks  full 
of  groceries.  They  said  that  Abraham  and  his 
wife  seemed  to  be  in  need,  and  that  they  were 
going  to  bring  some  things  over  here  and  slip 
them  into  the  room  while  Abraham  slept,  so  that 
the  heretics  might  be  surprised  in  the  morning. 
Now,  this  is  the  way  they  were  paid  for  their 
kindness.  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  think  also  of 
that  prayer  and  sermon.  Was  that  a  mere  acci 
dent?  I  think  not.  The  whole  affair  was  planned. 
They  were  not  satisfied  with  sacking,  quilting  and 
cording  them.  They  must  stretch  them  out  upon 
the  floor  like  sure-enough,  night-prowling,  dis 
honest  thieves;  and,  while  in  that  position,  pray 
to  the  deacon  the  prayer  that  he  has  been  budding 
and  blossoming  into  length  and  boisterousness  for 
the  last  twenty  years.  Then  think  of  the  parson 
in  the  same  position,  listening  to  the  sermon  on 
'Patience,'  when  you  know,  ladies  and  gentlemen, 
as  well  as  I,  that  the  parson,  with  a  very  little 
vocal  effort  and  a  slight  movement  of  his  hands, 
has  put  three  generations  to  sleep  with  that  identi- 


94  NEGRO    TALES 

cal  sermon.  Let  us  look  for  the  groceries,  and, 
if  found,  take  vengeance." 

As  the  word  "vengeance"  was  uttered  the  speak 
er's  feet  slipped  into  the  barrel  so  far  he  had  to 
be  extracted.  This  showed  the  people  where  the 
groceries  were.  By  this  time  the  parson  and 
deacon  were  on  their  feet  and  ready  to  state  their 
side  of  the  case. 

"Hearing  that  Abraham  and  his  wife  were  in 
hard  lines,"  said  the  parson,  "the  deacon  and  I, 
as  has  been  said,  bought  two  sacks  of  groceries 
from  the  gentleman  who  has  just  spoken,  intend 
ing  to  come  together  and  slip  them  into  this  room. 
By  some  means  we  were  separated,  so  I  came 
alone ;  and,  finding  the  household  asleep,  I  crawled 
into  that  window  and  put  the  contents  of  this  meal 
sack  into  the  barrel  yonder.  I  was  surprised  to 
find  in  it  a  large  bag  of  money.  All  this  time 
Abraham  and  his  wife  were  asleep  in  this  bed. 
Just  as  I  straightened  up  to  go  two  strong  arms 
caught  me,  gagged  me,  sacked,  and  closeted  me. 
I  think,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  have  said  enough 
to  prove  my  innocence,  and  that  of  Abraham  and 
his  wife.  There  has  been  a  mistake,  somewhere, 
or  the  man  with  the  strong  arms  was  playing  a 
winning  game  for  himself." 

The  deacon  came  forth,  and  in  a  few  words 
told  his  story,  and  ended  by  saying  that  the  two 
strong  arms  that  so  lovingly  handled  the  par- 


A    RUSTIC    COMEDY  95 

son  must  have  gagged,  quilted,  and  imprisoned 
him. 

Abraham  and  Ruth  were  ungagged  and 
brought  before  the  people.  Their  statement  of 
the  case  at  certain  points  was  just  like  the  par 
son's.  They  told  how  the  stranger  had  been  ad 
mitted,  how  he  treated  the  ashcake,  how  he 
claimed  kin,  and,  lastly,  how  they  had  trusted 
him  with  the  money,  and  been  deceived. 

"Innocent!  innocent  I"  shouted  the  people;  "all 
here  are  innocent.  The  stranger  alone  is  guilty. 
Is  there  nothing  here  by  which  he  can  be  identi 
fied?" 

"Here,"  said  Abraham,  "are  his  saddlebags 
and  hat,  with  a  name  on  the  former  that  is 
doubtless  his." 

"He  must  be  a  strange  thief  indeed  to  leave 
behind  him  such  telling  witnesses  as  these,"  said 
the  deacon. 

"Ah,"  said  the  parson,  "I  fear  there  is  still 
more  mystery  in  this  matter." 

While  the  people  were  speechmaking  and 
changing  their  opinions,  the  two  officers  who 
were  the  first  to  arrive  and  hear  Abraham's 
story  had  been  prowling  over  the  farm.  Just 
at  this  point  they  bore  a  man  through  the  crowd 
and  laid  him  on  the  floor  where  the  deacon  and 
parson  had  lain.  He  was  gagged  and  corded 
after  about  the  same  fashion  as  they  had  been. 


96  NEGRO    TALES 

"Ah,"  said  one,  "the  stranger  has  been  playing 
gagging-binding  master  to  another  weakling." 

"No,  my  man,"  said  Abraham,  "that  is  the 
stranger  himself." 

At  this  the  mob  seized  the  bound  man  and 
yelled:  "Confess,  confess!  You  shall  confess!" 
They  pulled  him  in  and  out  of  the  closet.  They 
lowered  him  into  the  cistern  and  hauled  him  out 
again  and  again.  At  times  a  hundred  voices  were 
bawling:  "Confess,  confess!  You  shall  con 
fess!"  During  all  this  confusion  the  parson  was 
the  only  person  who  noticed  that  the  poor  fellow 
was  still  gagged. 

"How  can  he  confess,"  said  the  parson,  "when 
he  is  gagged  as  daintily  as  a  parson  in  a  closet?" 

They  removed  the  gag,  but  not  the  cords. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  he,  "if  you  are  as  ready 
to  give  me  justice  as  I  am  to  confess  the  truth 
in  this  matter,  my  part  of  the  mystery  will  soon 
be  cleared  up  and  I  can  enjoy  myself  here  with 
my  uncle  and  aunt." 

"Claiming  kin  again,  Abraham,"  said  Ruth. 
"Look  out  for  your  life  next  time." 

"Strangle  the  hypocrite,"  said  one. 

"Give  the  impudent  whelp  a  bath  in  the  mill- 
pond,"  said  another. 

"No,"  said  the  parson,  "let  him  confess." 

"Gentlemen,"  said  he,  "I  am  innocent.  If  I 
stole  the  bag  of  money,  why  should  I  leave  my 


A    RUSTIC    COMEDY  97 

saddlebags  behind,  with  my  name  on  them,  and 
one  side  of  which  is  full  of  money  ?" 

The  saddlebags  were  now  examined  by  the 
crowd,  and  the  stranger's  statements  found  to 
be  true. 

"Then,"  said  he,  "why  should  I  encumber  my 
self  this  way?  In  fact,  how  could  I?  It  would 
be  impossible." 

This  somewhat  appeased  the  crowd,  until  some 
one  suggested  that  maybe  he  took  the  bag  of 
money  outside  to  hide  it,  intending  to  come  back 
and  get  his  own  property;  but  as  daylight  over 
took  him  he  hired  someone  to  gag  and  cord  him 
in  that  way.  On  hearing  this  one  man  grabbed 
the  prisoner  by  the  foot  and  started  to  drag  him 
to  the  cistern  again.  In  so  doing  one  boot  was 
pulled  off,  out  of  which  fell  a  picture. 

"Here,  Abraham/'  said  Ruth,  handing  him 
the  picture,  "this  may  be  all  you  will  ever  get 
for  your  bag  of  money." 

Abraham  took  the  picture  and  looked  at  it 
closely. 

"Now,  gentlemen,"  said  the  stranger,  "a  few 
more  points,  and  I  will  have  this  mystery  clear." 

"You  had  better  clear  it  quickly,"  said  the 
crowd. 

"Don't  be  too  hard,"  said  the  parson.  "Let 
him  confess." 

"Yes,"   said  the  stranger,   "I  am  anxious  to 


98  NEGRO    TALES 

confess.  This  gentleman  is  really  my  uncle.  He 
and  my  father  have  not  met  since  I  was  born. 
Father  and  I  agreed  to  pay  him  a  visit.  Since 
I  have  always  been  a  funny  chunk  of  humanity, 
father  thought  it  might  be  well  for  me  to  come 
last  night  and  twit  uncle  a  little.  He  promised 
to  arrive  this  morning.  As  I  neared  this  house 
last  night  I  saw  two  men  standing  close  to  the 
door,  as  though  listening  to  what  was  going  on 
inside.  On  seeing  me  they  moved  off  at  a  brisk 
pace.  Before  knocking,  I  listened  and  heard 
Uncle  Abraham  and  Aunt  Ruth  talking  of  their 
money,  and  what  they  intended  to  do  with  it  the 
next  day.  Now,  of  course  I  thought  the  two 
men  were  listening  to  the  same  thing,  and  would 
be  back  in  the  night  to  rob  them.  After  I  had 
been  admitted  and  had  spoiled  the  ashcake — so 
that  I  could  have  a  good  excuse  for  giving  them 
a  nice  little  gift  this  morning  for  wronging  them 
— and  had  gone  to  bed,  it  seemed  I  could  see 
those  two  men  trying  to  get  into  the  house.  Sleep 
fled  my  eyes;  and,  as  I  lay  pondering  what  I 
would  do  in  an  emergency,  I  beheld  the  good 
parson  here  at  the  meal  barrel.  Thinking  that 
he  was  one  of  the  men  I  distrusted  I  slipped  up 
behind  him,  and,  after  bundling  him  up  in  the 
fashion  you  beheld  him,  I  tucked  him  into  the 
closet.  When  the  deacon  came  I  treated  him 
likewise,  and  rolled  him  into  the  cistern.  The 


A    RUSTIC    COMEDY  99 

groceries  they  brought  were  put  in  the  barrel. 
I  could  not  account  for  this  part  of  it,  but  now 
I  see.  Having  disposed  of  the  supposed  robbers 
so  nicely,  Uncle  Abraham  put  the  bag  of  money 
in  my  keeping.  Thinking  I  had  nothing  more  to 
fear,  I  set  the  bag  at  my  side  and  fell  asleep. 
When  I  awoke  a  man  was  looking  in  the  window 
through  which  the  parson  had  climbed.  As  I 
heard  no  signs  of  another,  I  opened  the  door 
and  grappled  with  him.  While  we  were  rolling 
over  the  ground  a  second  man  walked  off  with 
the  money.  I  started  to  follow  him,  but  my 
man  clung  to  me  so  that  I  had  to  drag  him  a  con 
siderable  distance  before  I  could  beat  him  off. 
In  fact,  he  was  so  exhausted  he  did  not  rise  for 
some  time,  to  follow  me.  I  caught  up  with  the 
other  fellow  just  as  I  neared  the  old  well.  He 
evidently  thought  I  was  his  confederate.  I  said 
not  a  word,  but  lifted  the  bag  from  his  shoulder 
and  dropped  it  into  the  well.  Seeing  his  mistake, 
he  struck  me  a  terrible  blow  that  felled  me  to 
the  ground.  When  I  came  to  myself  I  was  bound 
and  gagged,  just  as  these  officers  found  me." 

The  crowd  gazed  at  one  another  in  unbelief, 
but  decided,  nevertheless,  after  some  parley  to 
proceed  to  the  well  to  investigate  the  truth  of  the 
strange  story  the  prisoner  had  to  tell.  Arrived 
there,  a  man  was  lowered  into  the  well,  and  soon 
gave  the  signal  to  be  drawn  out,  with  the  bag  of 


ioo  NEGRO   TALES 

money.  Some  of  the  crowd  were  still  disposed 
to  doubt  the  innocence  of  their  captive.  They 
claimed  that  he  was  one  of  the  band,  that  the 
bag  of  money  fell  into  the  well  by  accident,  and 
that  he  was  beaten,  bound,  and  gagged  because 
he  was  too  mean  to  go  along  with  the  others. 

"In  short,"  said  one,  "they  left  you  here  for 
an  outraged  people  to  dull  their  vengeance  upon. 
Let  every  lover  of  justice  help  to  string  him  up." 

"Hold!  hold,"  said  Abraham.  "This  picture 
has  a  story  to  tell.  There  are  two  likenesses  on 
here.  One  is  that  of  a  brother  that  I  have  not 
seen  for  thirty  years,  and  the  other  is  of  the 
stranger  here.  Is  this  not  sufficient  evidence  with 
what  you  have  already  heard?  I  think— guess- — 
believe — that  this  is  enough  for Well,  gen 
tlemen,  don't  you  think  this  is  enough  for  me?" 

"Yes,"  said  a  low-browed  son  of  passion  who 
was  trying  to  put  a  noose  around  the  stranger's 
neck,  "it  is  enough  to  make  this  fit  decently." 

"Let  the  man  have  a  chance  to  confess,"  cried 
out  the  parson  and  the  deacon  jointly. 

"Let  me  have  a  chance  to  collar  his  neck  with 
this  noose,"  said  the  low-browed  son  of  passion. 

Then  followed  a  struggle,  in  which  the  parson 
and  the  deacon  seized  the  noose  on  either  side 
of  the  fellow's  neck,  and  kept  it  from  being 
tightened.  The  struggle  grew  in  intensity,  so 
much  so  that  none  of  the  excited  throng  noticed 


A    RUSTIC    COMEDY  101 

a  dignified  old  gentleman  dismount  and  run  up 
to  the  crowd.  Abraham,  standing  to  one  side  in 
the  confusion,  noted  the  old  man's  approach, 
gazed  at  him,  and  at  once  clasped  him  around  the 
neck  and  cried:  "My  brother!  my  brother  I" 

Disengaging  himself,  and  upon  seeing  the  young 
man  in  his  sorry  plight,  the  old  gentleman  hur 
ried  forward  crying:  "My  son!  my  son!" 

The  young  man  hearing  the  cry  in  the  midst 
of  the  melee  looked  up  and  gasped,  "My  father! 
my  father!" 

By  this  time  Abraham  and  the  young  man's 
father  forced  their  way  to  the  young  man's  side. 
The  people  fell  back  and  scattered  in  all  direc 
tions,  leaving  the  young  man  almost  exhausted. 
His  bonds  were  at  once  cut,  and  he  was  put  upon 
his  feet  and  refreshed. 

The  young  man  was  soon  able  to  smile. 

His  Uncle  Abraham  and  Aunt  Ruth  kissed  him 
and  commended  his  heroism. 

Sometime  later  in  the  day  the  two  real  culprits 
were  apprehended,  and  confessed  their  guilt,  stat 
ing  that  they  had  overheard  part  of  Abraham's 
conversation  regarding  the  money  when  the  young 
man's  approach  had  led  them  to  await  a  better 
hour.  Thus  were  Abraham  and  Ruth  vindicated; 
thus,  too,  were  all  doubts  as  to  the  young  man's 
story  laid  at  rest.  Parson  Prudence  got  the  bag 
of  money  with  which  to  buy  the  parsonage  and 


102  NEGRO   TALES 

bell,  and  Deacon  Brindlebee  was  handsomely  re 
warded  for  his  part  in  the  comedy. 

Ashcakes  were  never  thought  of  again  in  that 
house,  for  Abraham's  brother  and  nephew,  were 
rich,  and  they  all  lived  as  one  family.  The  par 
sonage  was  erected.  The  bell  was  hung;  and,  as 
Abraham  prophesied,  the  bell  spread  their  fame 
above  and  the  women  who  visited  the  parson's 
wife  spread  it  below. 


THE   JACKAL   AND   THE   LION1 


AN  AFRICAN  FOLK-LORE  TALE 

The  Jackal  and  the  Lion  were  hunting  in  the 
jungle.  "Brother  Lion,"  said  the  Jackal,  uthe 
young  elephant  we  seek  is  a  good  distance  away. 
Well,  it  is  not  so  far  away  either,  but  you  see 
it  will  run  around  and  around  and  in  and  out, 
and  that  will  make  the  distance  long.  I  see  that 
you  have  a  sore  foot,  and  so  long  a  journey  might 
cost  you  your  life.  It  would  be  a  pity  to  lose 
your  great  head  and  pretty  voice." 

"It  would,  indeed,"  said  the  Lion.  "I  am  glad 
to  find  someone  who  understands  my  worth." 

"You  see,  Brother  Lion,"  said  the  Jackal,  "if 
I  should  get  lost  or  killed  the  world  would  not 
miss  me,  but  you,  Brother  Lion — you !" 

"Yes,  Brother  Jackal,"  broke  in  the  Lion,  "my 
place  could  not  be  filled;  but  do  not  take  my 
greatness  too  seriously.  You  are  worth  a  little, 
and  that  little  should  be  saved." 

1  This  story  was  told  to  me  by  a  native  African  who  was 
lecturing  in  this  country. 

103 


104  NEGRO   TALES 

''Brother  Lion/'  continued  the  Jackal,  "I  would 
gladly  give  my  whole  self  for  your  pleasure. 
You  lie  down  here  in  the  shade,  keep  cool  and 
think  great  thoughts,  while  I  take  your  spear  and 
run  down  and  kill  the  elephant  that  you  have  long 
desired  to  eat.  When  I  have  done  so  I  will  re 
turn  and  take  you  to  it!" 

"Very  good,"  said  the  Lion.  "You  are  kind 
and  thoughtful.  Take  my  spear  and  best  wishes 
and  be  off.  I  can  almost  taste  the  feast  now." 

The  Jackal  took  the  spear,  and  in  a  short  time 
had  killed  the  elephant  and  covered  the  body 
with  leaves.  It  then  ran  to  another  road,  cut 
its  finger  and  let  the  blood  drip  here  and  there 
for  a  great  distance.  Then  it  returned  to  the 
Lion  and  said:  "Brother  Lion,  I  almost  lost  my 
life  in  killing  the  elephant.  Just  go  through  yon 
der  forest  until  you  come  to  the  straight  road. 
By  the  elephant's  blood  you  can  trace  it  to  the 
spot  where  it  fell.  As  soon  as  I  rest  I'll  be  with 
you.  I  charge  you  now  that  to  taste  the  meat 
before  I  come  will  mean  death  to  you.  This  is  a 
new  law  of  the  jungle." 

The  Lion  went  in  search  of  the  bloody  path, 
and  the  Jackal  returned  to  the  elephant  and  be 
gan  to  eat.  Now  it  happened  that  the  Lion  hurt 
his  foot  and,  while  binding  it  up,  saw  the  Jackal 
eating  and  looking  around. 

When  the  Lion  came  up  to  the  Jackal  he  said: 


THE  JACKAL  AND  THE  LION     105 

"You  little  rascal,  I  have  a  notion  to  eat  you  for 
deceiving  me." 

"Be  patient,  Brother  Lion;  I  am  doing  you  a 
favor.  Unless  a  Jackal  eats  of  a  young  elephant 
first,  its  meat  will  kill  a  Lion.  This  is  a  new  law 
of  the  jungle,  and  I  am  still  in  love  with  your 
great  head  and  pretty  voice.  You  remember  I 
gave  you  a  charge  to  this  end." 

"Yes,"  said  the  Lion,  "I  remember,  and  I 
thank  you  for  saving  my  head  and  voice;  but 
since  you  have  tested  the  meat,  what  keeps  me 
from  eating  my  fill?" 

"Just  another  new  law  of  the  jungle,"  said  the 
Jackal.  "This  new  law  says  that  such  meat  must 
be  put  upon  a  high  stone  tower  where  the  sun's 
rays  may  strike  it.  Then  all  may  eat  it  un 
harmed." 

"Oh,  Brother  Jackal,"  said  the  Lion,  "how  can 
I  ever  pay  you  for  saving  my  head  and  voice?" 

"In  this  way,"  replied  the  Jackal.  "According 
to  the  law,  my  wife  and  children  must  be  masons 
upon  the  wall,  and  you  and  yours  must  hand  up 
the  stones;  and  you  see  there  are  plenty  of  them 
about  here.  Of  course,  I  remain  on  the  ground 
to  direct.  I  have  told  my  wife  and  children,  and 
they  are  coming.  You  go  and  bring  yours." 

"That  suits  me  quite  well,"  said  the  Lion. 
"I'll  be  back  with  mine  in  a  short  while." 

When  the  Lion  and  his  family  had  returned, 


io6  NEGRO   TALES 

the  Jackal  and  his  family  had  eaten  half  of  the 
elephant  and  were  dancing. 

"You  little  rascal!"  roared  the  Lion,  "have  you 
deceived  me  again?" 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  replied  the  Jackal.  "See  that 
little  bird  lying  dead  there?  That  is  the  messen 
ger  of  the  new  laws.  By  accident  I  killed  it. 
The  new  law  requires  that  the  one  who  kills  such 
a  bird,  and  his  family,  must  eat  half  the  meat 
present  as  a  punishment;  and  such  a  punishment 
as  it  has  been!  But  for  this  new  dance  my  wife 
invented  we  should  all  be  dead.  This  means  that 
you  would  be  dead,  too.  The  life  of  the  Jackal 
in  such  a  case  goes  into  the  bird.  It  becomes  ten 
times  as  powerful  as  a  Lion  and  kills  everyone 
it  meets.  See?" 

"I  do,"  replied  the  Lion,  "and  thanks  again 
for  my  head  and  voice.  Let  me  remind  you, 
Brother  Jackal,  that  my  wife  and  family  are  not 
likely  to  die  at  present  from  over-eating." 

"Let  me  remind  you,  Brother  Lion,  that  one 
more  speech  like  that  from  you  will  put  life  into 
that  bird,  and  you  will  never  eat  another  dinner." 

"Thanks,  Brother  Jackal,  for  your  wisdom  and 
kindness.  Let's  build  the  tower." 

In  a  short  time  the  tower  was  erected. 

"How  are  we  to  get  the  meat  up?"  asked  the 
Lion. 

"Oh,"    said    the    Jackal,  "my    wife,    who    in- 


THE  JACKAL  AND  THE  LION    107 

vented  the  dance,  has  invented  a  rope  to  pull  the 
meat  up  with." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  that,  Brother  Jackal,"  said 
the  Lion,  "for  my  wife,  who  is  rather  dull,  may 
learn  many  things  from  yours." 

"Brother  Lion,"  said  the  Jackal,  "when  a  Lion 
passes  a  compliment  like  that  upon  a  Jackal's 
wife  he  had  better  roar  it  far  and  wide,  or  he 
will  be  counted  a  flatterer,  and  flattery  puts  life 
into  that  little  bird." 

The  Lion  roared  the  compliment  until  every 
beast  in  the  jungle  heard  it.  The  Jackal's  wife 
and  children  let  down  the  rope  and  pulled  the 
meat  up. 

"Brother  Lion,  there  is  one  precaution  we  must 
take.  That  little  bird  lying  there  must  never  be 
allowed  to  come  back  to  life,  and  there  is  but  one 
way  to  do  it." 

"Brother  Jackal,  pray  what  is  that?" 

"Pick  up  that  rock  lying  there  by  the  bird. 
When  my  wife  has  pulled  me  to  the  top  of  the 
tower,  throw  it  to  me.  If  I  catch  it,  the  bird  is 
dead  forever.  We  will  then  pull  you  and  your 
family  up,  and  what  a  feasting  there  will  be!" 

"My  dear  Brother  Jackal,"  roared  the  Lion, 
"you  are  all  wisdom.  Now  you  are  up,  and  I  am 
ready  with  the  rock.  Shall  I  throw  it?" 

"My  dear  Brother  Lion,"  said  the  Jackal,  "I 
am  so  high  up  I  fear  I  shall  not  be  able  to  catch 


io8  NEGRO   TALES 

it.  There  is  one  way  to  keep  me  from  missing  it. 
Put  your  wife  right  under  my  hands  as  I  hold 
them  out." 

"She  is  there,"  called  the  Lion.  "Now  catch 
the  rock."  The  Lion  threw  up  the  rock.  The 
Jackal  withdrew  his  hands,  and  it  came  back, 
striking  the  Lion's  wife  and  almost  killing  her. 

"You've  killed  Ma!  you've  killed  Ma!"  cried 
all  the  little  Lions,  and  scampered  off  into  the 
forest. 

"That  was  a  terrible  mistake,  Brother  Lion," 
said  the  Jackal.  "It  was  all  your  fault.  You 
didn't  ask  me  whether  or  not  I  was  ready.  That 
bird  is  coming  to  life!  I  feel  it.  Unless  I  can 
get  you  up  here  in  five  minutes  it  will  be  on  wing 
and  right  after  you.  Now  throw  up  the  rock. 
That's  right.  I  have  it.  Good  for  you.  Here, 
wife,  heat  this  rock  and  hand  it  back  to  me  when 
I  ask  for  it.  You  understand?" 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Jackal,"  called  the  Lion,  "hand 
your  husband  the  rock  when  he  asks  for  it,  for 
that  is  indeed  a  precious  rock." 

The  Jackal  let  down  the  rope,  telling  the  Lion 
to  tie  it  tightly  around  his  body  below  the  fore 
arms.  When  this  was  done  the  Jackal  began  to 
pull  the  Lion  up. 

"Brother  Lion,"  called  the  Jackal,  "that  little 
bird  down  there  is  moving." 

"Sister  Jackal,"  cried  the  Lion,  "have  you  the 
rock?" 


THE  JACKAL  AND  THE  LION    109 

By  this  time  the  Jackal's  wife  was  holding  the 
rock  with  a  pair  of  tongs,  for  it  was  very  hot. 

'That's  right,"  shouted  the  Lion,  "hold  that 
rock  carefully." 

"That  terrible  bird!"  mourned  the  Jackal. 

"Ha,  ha!"  said  the  Jackal's  wife,  "I'll  drop 
this  hot  rock  into  your  mouth,  and  then  how  you'll 
kick  and  claw  the  air!" 

She  tried  to  drop  the  rock,  but  the  tongs  would 
not  open.  She  then  tried  to  drop  both  tongs  and 
rock,  but  could  not.  The  tongs  soon  began  to 
burn  her  hands.  In  trying  to  throw  them  from 
her,  she  fell  from  the  tower  and  killed  herself. 

The  Jackal  dropped  the  rope  and  so  freed  the 
Lion.  The  tower  trembled  and  fell. 

The  little  bird  that  the  Jackal  thought  dead 
was  the  cause  of  the  change.  It  was  the  spirit 
of  the  jungle  and  believed  in  fair  play.  It  sang 
a  sad  song  while  the  wife  of  the  Jackal  was  being 
buried.  It  then  sang  joyously  while  the  Lion 
and  his  wife  and  children,  who  had  come  back, 
ate  the  rest  of  the  meat. 

The  Jackal  was  badly  hurt  and  crippled  by 
falling  with  the  tower,  yet  he  had  to  wait  on  the 
Lion  and  his  family  while  they  were  feasting. 
And  ever  afterwards  the  Jackal  was  an  outcast 
among  animals,  despised  by  all  because  of  his 
evil  and  deceitful  spirit. 


THE    KING'S   SHOES 

When  King  Mesina  died  his  twin  sons,  Savo 
and  Savoda,  became  joint  heirs  to  the  throne. 
This  was  according  to  the  King's  wishes.  He 
thought,  however,  that  as  Savo  was  the  older 
and  meaner  he  might  at  some  time  rob  his  brother 
of  his  part  in  the  kingdom.  So  he  had  placed  in 
his  will  a  clause  to  the  effect  that  should  this 
happen  Savoda  was  to  be  the  sole  heir.  Ere  the 
people  had  ceased  mourning  for  the  King,  Savo 
began  to  persecute  Savoda.  It  mattered  not  what 
Savo  did  Savoda  always  had  an  excuse  for  him. 
In  fact,  he  thought  his  brother  angelic;  and, 
hence,  could  do  no  wrong. 

As  the  time  for  the  coronation  approached 
Savo  more  and  more  ignored  and  persecuted 
Savoda.  At  last  he  said:  "Savoda,  my  servant, 
sit  down  in  the  corner  and  be  as  little  as  you  really 
are  while  I,  your  king,  conduct  matters."  Savoda 
obeyed  with  a  smile  upon  his  face,  thinking  that 
all  things  work  together  for  good  to  him  who  is 
the  son  of  a  king  and  has  an  earthly  angel  for  a 
brother. 

no 


THE    KING'S    SHOES  in 

Savo  looked  after  the  coronation  in  every  part. 
He  made  all  kinds  of  demands  upon  his  people, 
and  they  gladly  responded.  He  sent  his  leading 
captain  to  visit  distant  lands  and  bring  back  lux 
uries  for  the  occasion.  Everything  progressed 
nicely  until  the  captain  returned  with,  as  his  sole 
cargo,  an  ugly  dwarf. 

This  threw  Savo  into  a  rage.  He  had  the  cap 
tain  seized,  beaten  and  thrown  into  prison. 
When  the  dwarf  was  brought  before  him,  he  said : 
"Begone,  human  reptile !  Go,  dwell  in  the  woods 
with  your  kinsmen. " 

"My  body  is  small  and  weak,  but  by  the  power 
of  wit  shall  I  be  remembered  in  the  affairs  of  this 
kingdom,"  said  the  dwarf. 

Savoda  was  still  sitting  in  the  corner,  trying  to 
smile,  and  to  be  small  at  the  same  time. 

"You,  sir,"  said  Savo,  pointing  at  Savoda, 
"are  as  impudent  as  this  dwarf.  Your  stillness 
means  plotting,  and  your  smile  means  ridicule. 
You  think  that  by  your  wit  too  you  shall  be  re 
membered  in  the  affairs  of  the  kingdom?  I'll  see 
to  that.  My  wisdom  is  a  seine  that  holds  fast  to 
the  big  fish  and  crushes  the  minnows  as  they  slip 
through.  Minnow,  sniff  your  fate.  Well,  you 
may  have  wit  enough  to  dish  out  soup.  Soldiers, 
to  the  woods  with  this  abominable  dwarf,  and  to 
the  soup-house  with  this  simpleton  who  dreams  of 
being  king." 


ii2  NEGRO   TALES 

After  Savo  had  recovered  from  what  he  con 
sidered  a  very  righteous  indignation  he  sent  for 
his  trusty  porter. 

"Well,  Porter,"  said  he,  "is  everything  ready 
for  the  coronation?" 

"Everything  is  ready,  my  King,  save  your 
shoes;  and  to-morrow  is  the  event.  The  dwarf 
you  sent  to  the  woods  took  them  with  him." 

"Go  quickly  and  have  the  same  shoemaker  turn 
your  king  out  another  pair  on  time." 

"My  king,  there  is  no  relief  in  that;  for  he 
went  with  the  dwarf,  and  neither  can  be  found." 

"By  the  clearness  of  my  conscience,  is  there  not 
one  other  in  all  my  vast  domain  that  can  so  fit 
my  feet  that  my  wrath  shall  not  be  called  upon  to 
fit  him?" 

"There  was  one  this  morning,  my  King." 

"Is  he  not  now?" 

"He  is,  my  King." 

"What  is  he  doing?" 

"He  is  shoeing  his  soul." 

"Shoeing  his  soul?    What  mean  you?" 

"A  shoe  is  used  to  cover  something  that  very 
much  needs  to  be  covered.  Is  it  not,  my  King?" 

"It  is." 

"As  you  know,  this  shoemaker  was  skilled  at 
making  shoes,  and  especially  skilled  in  stealing 
leather,  my  King.  He  believed  that  the  ease  with 
which  a  king  treads  upon  his  handiwork  will  blot 


THE    KING'S   SHOES  113 

out  the  theft  in  procuring  the  leather.  The  story 
runs  that  this  morning  he  went  to  the  soup-house 
to  get  his  usual  bowl  of  soup.  A  stranger  waited 
upon  him.  As  he  put  the  bowl  to  his  lips  the 
soup  turned  clear  as  water,  and  in  it  appeared 
two  pictures.  The  first  was  the  likeness  of  the 
stranger  before  him,  and  on  his  breast  was  the 
name,  'King  Savoda.'  The  second  represented 
himself  standing  before  a  great  white  throne. 
His  soul  was  uncovered,  and  over  it  were  written 
the  names  of  the  ones  from  whom  he  had  stolen 
leather.  His  soul  was  the  shape  of  a  boot;  and 
there  he  stood  trying  to  make  a  shoe  to  cover  it 
from  the  sight  of  Him  who  sat  upon  the  throne 
as  the  Great  Judge.  The  longer  he  looked  the 
more  fearful  became  the  second.  In  a  fit  of  de 
spair  he  gulped  down  the  soup  so  fast  that  it 
strangled  him,  and  he  fell  dead  at  the  counter. 
So,  my  King,  is  he  not  shoeing  his  soul?  My 
King,  the  people  say  that  Savoda,  who  was  a 
stranger  to  the  shoemaker,  knew  not  what  he  saw 
in  the  bowl.  He  simply  thought  he  was  weak 
from  overwork  and,  in  keeping  with  his  good  na 
ture,  he  straightway  gave  him  a  decent  burial." 

"Ha,  ha !  The  dreams  of  a  porter  frighten  not 
his  king.  If  there  be  no  real  workman  about, 
find  me  a  cobbler." 

"A  cobbler  there  is  at  the  turn  of  the  square, 
but,  O  my  King,  his  failure  at  making  you  shoes 


ii4  NEGRO    TALES 

will  be  equaled  only  by  your  success  in  cutting  off 
his  head." 

"Porter,  you  are  wide-awake  when  you  speak 
of  cutting  off  heads.  Take  this  leather  and  my 
measure  to  the  cobbler.  Remind  him  that  to 
morrow  is  the  coronation,  and  that  no  shoes  for 
the  King  means  no  head  for  the  cobbler." 

The  porter  departed,  and  the  cobbler  soon  re 
ceived  the  leather  and  the  measure  and  the  mes 
sage  and,  despite  the  gloom  of  the  latter,  he 
worked  bravely  on  until  he  had  completed  his 
task.  Being  very  tired,  he  fell  asleep.  When  he 
awoke  he  found  that  (the  cat  had  turned  the 
candle  over  on  one  of  the  shoes,  and,  as  a  result, 
the  upper  was  burned  completely  out.  He  had 
received  just  leather  enough  to  make  the  shoes, 
and  there  was  no  more  of  that  kind  to  be  had. 
The  hour  of  the  coronation  was  near  at  hand. 
What  was  he  to  do?  Just  then  the  porter  came 
in.  Without  saying  a  word  he  put  the  shoes  un 
der  his  arm  and  carried  them  to  the  king.  As 
soon  as  the  king  saw  them  he  ordered  the  cob 
bler's  head  to  be  taken  off. 

The  cobbler  had  hardly  finished  kissing  his 
wife  and  children  when  the  king's  soldiers  seized 
him  and  began  dragging  him  through  the  streets 
toward  the  block.  A  terrible  voice  then  sounded 
forth.  It  was  more  like  thunder  than  that  of  a 
human  being's.  The  soldiers  knew  it  was  the 


THE    KING'S    SHOES  115 

voice  of  the  great  giant  Lubercal;  so  they  left 
the  cobbler  and  hastened  to  save  themselves. 
After  giving  the  cobbler  something  to  refresh 
him,  the  giant  put  him  in  one  of  his  coat  pockets 
and  carried  him  off  to  his  mountain  home.  The 
cobbler  soon  found  there  were  two  others  in  the 
pocket  with  him. 

"Ah,"  said  they,  "we  are  glad  you  are  in  here." 

"Ah,"  said  the  cobbler,  "you  are  no  gladder 
than  I.  They  were  about  to  cut  my  head  off  out 
there.  How  relieved  I  feel!" 

"On  the  life  of  us,"  said  they,  "we  don't  see 
where  the  relief  comes  in.  As  we  see  it,  you  have 
simply  exchanged  a  beheading  for  an  eating.  So 
certain  were  we  to  be  eaten  by  the  giant  and  his 
wife  for  supper  that  we  had  already  said  our 
prayers.  As  you  are  so  big  and  tender,  it  may  be 
the  giant  will  feast  upon  you  to-night  and  leave 
us  for  breakfast,  giving  us  a  chance  to  escape  in 
the  darkness.  We  are  told  that  he  always  re 
freshes  the  one  he  is  going  to  eat  first.  So,  you 
see  we  are  glad  you  are  in  here." 

By  this  time  the  giant  had  reached  his  home. 
He  took  all  three  out,  and  said  to  his  wife :  "Here 
they  all  are.  Prepare  the  cobbler  first.  The  other 
two  will  keep." 

We  must  now  leave  the  cobbler  and  his  friends 
to  their  fate  with  the  giant  and  his  wife,  and  re 
turn  to  the  coronation  at  the  palace.  The  palace 


n6  NEGRO   TALES 

is  thronged  with  noblemen,  and  Savo  is  pacing  up 
and  down  barefooted  and  bareheaded.  We  know 
why  he  is  barefooted;  but  why  is  he  bareheaded? 
He  had  the  crown  placed  upon  the  throne  instead 
of  on  his  head.  He  did  this  he  said  in  order  to 
start  a  new  custom;  but  it  was  simply  to  hide, 
if  possible,  the  mishap  with  the  shoe. 

The  king  and  his  noblemen  soon  sat  down  to 
supper.  The  order  was,  eat  a  while  and  boast  a 
while.  To  make  the  events  of  the  supper  clear 
we  must  know  something  that  took  place  at  the 
gate  just  before  the  coronation. 

The  porter  had  served  under  the  old  King 
Mesina,  and  had  kept  fairly  straight.  Being  a 
wise  man,  he  saw  that  Savo  was  weak  and  his 
kingdom  would  soon  fall,  so  he  set  about  making 
himself  whole.  As  soon  as  Savo  cast  aside  the 
shoes  because  of  the  burnt  one,  he  saw  the  possi 
bilities  of  a  fortune  in  the  good  one.  His  busi 
ness  that  night  was  to  sit  at  the  palace  gate  and 
admit  the  guests.  To  every  simple  looking  no 
bleman  that  passed  he  would  hold  up  the  good 
shoe  and  say:  "How  much  am  I  offered  for  a 
shoe  that  is  so  fine  the  king  will  not  wear  it?" 

At  last  there  came  a  nobleman  whose  bluntness 
equaled  the  porter's  wit.  He  took  the  shoe,  and 
left  the  porter  a  bag  of  gold. 

As  has  been  said,  the  order  at  the  supper  was 
eat  a  while  and  boast  a  while. 


THE    KING'S    SHOES  117 

Nobleman  after  nobleman  told  of  some  pre 
cious  keepsake  he  had,  and  its  history.  At  last 
they  called  on  the  nobleman  with  the  shoe.  He 
was  so  slow  to  respond  that  he  was  roundly 
hissed  by  the  guests,  as  having  nothing  worthy 
the  attention  of  a  king.  This  was  too  much  for 
nobility  at  a  feast.  He  first  told  a  strange  story 
of  how  he  came  into  possession  of  the  shoe.  Then 
he  snatched  it  from  his  pocket  so  quickly  that  it 
dropped  from  his  hand  and  fell  plump  into  the 
king's  dish  of  soup. 

"Soldiers  of  the  king,"  said  Savo,  "cast  the  in 
truder  into  prison,  and  see  that  his  head  comes  off 
bright  and  early  to-morrow  morning." 

Thus  ended  the  coronation.  The  guests  de 
parted,  and  Savo  retired  for  the  night.  Just  after 
the  nobleman  was  placed  in  prison  the  giant  Lu- 
bercal  passed  the  palace  gate  and  saw  the  porter 
asleep  beside  his  bag  of  gold.  Knowing  what 
had  happened,  he  took  the  porter  and  the  bag  of 
gold  around  to  the  prison.  There  was  a  huge 
chimney  leading  down  into  the  cell  where  the  no 
bleman  was.  The  giant  reached  down  and 
brought  out  the  nobleman  and  put  the  porter  in 
his  place.  The  nobleman  and  his  bag  of  gold- 
were  carried  by  the  giant  to  his  mountain  home. 

In  the  meantime  what  had  become  of  the  cob 
bler  and  his  two  friends? 

They  were  still  at  the  home  of  the  giant,  safe 


n8  NEGRO    TALES 

and  sound,  with  no  fear  of  being  eaten.  What 
had  the  giant  meant  by  telling  his  wife  to  prepare 
the  cobbler  first?  Simply  that  he  had  heard  the 
conversation  that  passed  among  the  three  men  in 
his  pockets  as  he  went  home,  and  as  he  was  of  a 
rather  grim  but  jovial  nature  he  made  pretence  of 
devouring  his  captives.  Of  these  three  we  know 
of  the  cobbler,  but  who  were  the  two  friends? 
One  was  the  captain  that  Savo  had  put  in  prison 
for  bringing  the  dwarf.  The  other  was  Savoda. 
The  giant  Lubercal  thought  that  Savo  might 
make  away  with  them  during  the  coronation,  so 
he  protected  them  in  this  way. 

Early  the  next  morning  Savo  sent  word  to  the 
jailer  to  dispatch  the  man  in  the  cell  and  bring 
the  head  to  him.  It  was  done;  but,  when  the  head 
was  brought,  Savo  almost  fell  from  his  throne. 

"My  porter!  my  porter !"  said  Savo,  "you  have 
been  dealt  with  foully.  How  dare  you,  Jailer,  to 
turn  the  nobleman  out  and  put  my  porter  in  his 
place?  Soldiers  of  the  king,  seize  the  deceiver, 
and  off  with  his  head." 

Before  the  soldiers  could  carry  out  the  order 
the  giant  Lubercal  appeared  before  the  palace 
and  sent  his  voice  through  the  halls. 

"Come,  Savo,"  said  he,  "it  is  time  to  reckon." 

The  giant  first  took  from  his  pocket  the  cob 
bler,  who  was  red-eyed  and  sneezing,  and  bidding 


THE    KING'S    SHOES  119 

him  no  longer  to  fear  King  Savo,  gave  him  his 
liberty.  When  the  cobbler  was  set  free  he  se 
cured  the  burnt  shoe,  that  it  might  remind  him 
never  again  to  fall  asleep  over  his  work,  and 
hastened  to  his  family. 

Lubercal  then  followed  this  by  freeing  the  no 
bleman,  with  a  similar  injunction.  When  the  no 
bleman  was  given  his  liberty,  he  distributed  the 
bag  of  gold  among  the  poor,  and,  after  awaiting 
Savoda's  coronation,  departed  to  his  own  es 
tates. 

Then  the  giant  Lubercal  now,  in  keeping  with 
King  Mesina's  will,  put  Savoda  upon  the  throne, 
and  made  Savo  gate-keeper. 

A  good  giant  was  Lubercal?  Well,  he  was  not 
so  good,  after  all,  as  one  other  act  will  show. 
Even  giants  must  live  by  some  law. 

The  law  by  which  Lubercal  was  controlled  al 
lowed  him  to  be  king  if  he  could  steal  the  whole 
nation  at  once.  To  do  this  all  the  people  must  be 
gathered  into  one  house.  Lubercal's  aim  was  to 
deceive  the  people  into  building  a  house  large 
enough  to  hold  them  all,  and  then  proclaim  him 
self  king. 

He  suggested  to  Savoda  that  he  force  his  peo 
ple  to  erect  such  a  house,  so  that  the  whole  na 
tion  might  come  together  and  celebrate  his  (Sa 
voda's)  accession  to  the  throne.  Savoda  did  so. 
After  much  time  and  labor,  the  house  was  ready. 


120  NEGRO   TALES 

The  morning  of  the  fatal  day  arrived — the  day 
on  which  Lubercal  intended  to  put  into  execution 
his  plan  of  stealing  the  throne  and  Savoda's  peo 
ple.  Lubercal  stood  upon  the  mountain  and  sent 
his  voice  ringing  over  the  country.  Savoda  and 
the  people  thought  this  a  good  omen,  and  expected 
the  giant  to  come  down  and  rejoice  with  them. 
While  King  Savoda  was  arranging  his  crown,  in 
walked  the  dwarf. 

"Good  morning,  my  King,"  said  he.  "I  have 
come  to  rescue  you  and  your  people  this  day  from 
the  hands  of  the  designing  Lubercal."  Noting 
Savoda's  look  of  suspicion  and  incredulity  the 
dwarf  continued:  "I  see,  my  King,  that  you  have 
little  faith  in  my  remark.  Go  you  now  to  the 
temple,  and  ere  the  day  is  done  you  shall  see  your 
own  salvation." 

King  Savoda  and  his  people,  after  further  in 
sistence,  though  still  not  convinced,  went  to  the 
temple,  while  the  dwarf  hastened  to  encounter 
the  giant. 

Again  we  must  go  back,  in  order  to  make  clear 
events  soon  to  be  narrated. 

Savo  had  been  too  silly  to  remain  king,  yet  he 
was  wise  enough  to  see  the  force  that  removed 
him.  He  therefore  set  about  finding  the  source 
of  Lubercal's  strength.  While  Lubercal  was 
away  he  went  up  into  the  mountain  and  hid  him- 


THE   KING'S   SHOES  121 

self  where  he  could  see,  but  could  not  be  seen. 
Lubercal  soon  came,  and  straightway  tried  to 
pull  up  a  large  tree  by  the  roots.  At  first  he 
failed  to  move  it.  He  then  went  to  a  large  cask 
containing  fluid  of  some  kind,  and  smelled  it.  At 
the  next  trial  he  pulled  the  tree  halfway  up.  He 
went  back  to  the  cask  and  smelled  again.  Then 
he  walked  to  the  tree  and  with  a  slight  effort 
snatched  it  from  the  ground  and  tossed  it  down 
the  mountain. 

"Ah,"  said  Savo,  "I  have  the  secret  of  your 
strength.  It  is  in  that  fluid." 

Then  Lubercal  sat  down,  and  began  to  talk  to 
himself  of  how  his  strength  lay  in  smelling  the 
fluid  in  the  cask,  and  how  his  length  of  days  de 
pended  upon  the  running  of  the  old-fashioned 
clock  that  hung  beside  a  tree. 

That  night,  as  the  giant  slept,  Savo  slipped  to 
the  cask  and  examined  it.  He  found  it  had  two 
chambers,  and  that  the  fluid  was  in  the  lower  one. 
He  climbed  into  the  upper  chamber,  thinking  he 
might  find  some  way  of  letting  the  fluid  out.  He 
found  none,  and  to  his  surprise  smelling  the  fluid 
made  him  weak  instead  of  strong.  He  soon  be 
came  so  weak  he  could  not  get  out;  so  there  he 
stayed  until  morning.  At  daybreak  he  first  heard 
the  giant's  voice  ringing  over  the  country.  He 
next  heard  the  shouts  of  King  Savoda  and  his 
people  as  they  were  hurrying  to  the  great  temple, 


122  NEGRO    TALES 

and  lastly,  the  small  clear  voice  of  the  dwarf  pip 
ing  out  a  challenge  to  Lubercal. 

"Giant  Lubercal,  I  have  come  to  thwart  your 
designs  upon  King  Savoda  and  his  people. 
Strength,  I  suppose  will  be  your  weapon;  but  wit 
shall  be  mine.  The  war  is  on.  Here's  at  you." 

"A  flea  in  a  kettle  of  hot  water,  my  little  man, 
is  not  more  at  a  disadvantage  than  you  are  with 
me,"  said  Lubercal;  "but  if  you  want  a  quick, 
easy  death,  come  on." 

At  this  the  dwarf  scratched  the  giant's  great 
toe,  but  did  not  even  make  it  bleed. 

"For  that,  sir,"  said  the  giant,  "you  shall  serve 
to  whet  my  appetite  for  breakfast." 

Now,  according  to  an  ancient  custom,  the  giant 
could  not  eat  a  human  being  without  first  closing 
his  eyes  and  saying  a  long  blessing.  While  he 
was  thus  engaged,  the  dwarf  turned  himself  into 
a  fierce  bird  and  circled  above  the  giant's  head. 
Every  now  and  then  he  would  strike  the  giant  a 
stinging  blow.  After  a  hard  struggle  the  giant 
succeeded  in  catching  him.  He  held  him  tightly 
in  his  great  hand;  but  in  a  flash  the  dwarf  turned 
to  a  flea.  The  giant  was  not  well  proportioned. 
His  body  was  large,  with  a  deep  crease  between 
the  shoulders,  and  his  arms  were  so  short  they 
could  not  reach  it. 

The  dwarf  found  the  crease  and  began  to  bite. 
The  giant  soon  became  frantic.  He  ran  to  the 


THE    KING'S    SHOES  123 

tree;  and,  in  trying  to  kill  the  dwarf,  he  broke 
the  old-fashioned  clock  upon  the  running  of  which 
depended  the  length  of  his  days. 

He  lay  upon  his  back  and  rolled  and  tumbled, 
and  then  with  marvelous  force  he  drew  up  his 
limbs  and  straightened  them  out.  One  of  his  feet 
struck  the  cask,  and  fluid  and  Savo  were  dashed 
down  the  steep  mountain-side.  The  once  mighty 
Lubercal  soon  became  so  weak  that  the  dwarf  as 
sumed  his  original  form,  tied  a  rope  around  his 
neck,  and  led  him  into  the  temple  where  King 
Savoda  and  his  people  were  celebrating.  At  the 
dwarfs  command  Lubercal  told  the  assembled 
multitude  of  his  designs  against  them,  and  begged 
that  he  be  allowed  to  return  to  his  mountain  home 
and  breathe  out  his  last  as  his  forefathers  had 
done.  He  returned,  and  soon  a  terrible  wail  told 
the  people  he  was  no  more. 

"Honor  to  whom  honor  is  due,"  said  King  Sa 
voda.  "Let  us  honor  the  dwarf  who  has  saved 
our  whole  nation.  Truly,  the  power  of  his  wit 
shall  be  felt  in  the  affairs  of  this  people." 

"My  great  and  good  King,"  said  the  dwarf, 
"I  am  honored  in  being  in  your  midst,  and  happy 
in  seeing  you  happy.  My  life  work  is  ended  and 
I  am  ready  to  go." 

As  the  autumn  leaf  falls  withered  to  the 
ground,  so  the  dwarf  fell  dead  at  the  king's  feet. 

"My  people,"  said  King  Savoda,  "let  us  spend 


124  NEGRO   TALES 

the  rest  of  the  day  mourning  for  the  dwarf  and 
honoring  his  memory.  How  shall  we  best  do 
this?" 

"My  King,"  said  an  aged  man,  "I  have  a  sug 
gestion." 

"What  have  you  done  that  you  should  be  al 
lowed  to  even  make  a  suggestion  concerning  so 
great  a  person  as  the  dwarf,"  said  the  King. 

uMy  good  and  wise  King,  look  closely  and  you 
will  see  that  I  am  the  captain  who  was  impris 
oned  for  bringing  the  dwarf  into  this  kingdom." 

The  King  looked,  and  seeing  the  man  had 
spoken  truthfully,  told  him  to  draw  near. 

"You  shall  no  longer  be  the  captain  of  a  ship, 
but  the  first  of  my  wise  men.  We  will  follow 
your  suggestion.  Let  us  have  it." 

"My  King,"  said  the  captain,  "yonder  moun 
tain-top  upon  which  the  giant  Lubercal  now  lies 
dead  is  a  solid  rock.  I  suggest  that  you  send 
your  best  workmen  in  stone  up  there.  As  they 
look  upon  the  giant,  let  them  shape  out  of  the 
rock  his  exact  image  with  the  arms  extended. 
Let  them  lay  a  marble  slab  across  the  arms,  and 
upon  this  place  the  image  of  the  dwarf." 

The  King  was  so  impressed  with  the  suggestion 
that  he  sent  hundreds  of  his  best  workmen  to 
carry  it  out.  A  signal  told  when  they  had  fin 
ished  the  work.  Then  the  King,  followed  by  the 
people  bearing  the  body  of  the  dwarf,  ascended 


THE   KING'S   SHOES  125 

the  mountain.  He  was  much  pleased  with  the 
images,  and  ordered  that  the  bodies  of  the  giant 
and  the  dwarf  be  buried  in  the  solid  rock  side  by 
side. 

As  he  started  to  leave  he  heard  some  one  say: 

"My  brother,  Savoda,  I  am  nigh  unto  death. 
Hear  me  ere  I  depart." 

The  King  turned  and,  seeing  it  was  his  brother 
Savo,  clasped  him  in  his  arms,  and  placed  a  kiss 
upon  his  cheek.  Savo  in  a  few  words  begged  his 
brother  to  forgive  him  for  what  he  had  done,  told 
him  of  his  adventure  in  the  cask  and  how  it  ended. 
He  then  kissed  his  brother  again  and  again,  and 
expired.  Savoda  was  so  overcome  that  he  had 
to  be  borne  to  his  palace.  Knowing  their  King's 
feelings  in  the  matter,  the  workmen  made  an  ex 
act  image  of  Savo,  and  placed  it  beside  that  of 
Lubercal,  after  which  his  body  was  buried  close 
to  the  others.  At  the  command  of  the  king  a 
huge  stone  was  placed  near  the  statues  to  remind 
the  king  and  people  of  their  duty. 

Ever  after  that  people  would  take  their  chil 
dren  to  the  mountain  top  and  tell  them  the  story 
of  the  king's  shoes  and  the  lessons  to  be  learned 
from  it. 

King  Savoda  lived  a  long  and  useful  life.  His 
people  loved  him  for  his  wisdom  and  goodness. 
He  left  twin  sons  to  succeed  him.  They  were  so 
small  that  both  sat  in  the  same  chair.  They  al- 


126  NEGRO   TALES 

ways  agreed,  and  under  them  the  kingdom  flour 
ished.  They  were  so  much  like  their  father  that 
the  people  called  them  the  double  king  with  one 
soul,  borrowed  from  their  father. 


HOW  MR.  RABBIT  SECURES  A  PRETTY 
WIFE  AND  RICH  FATHER-IN-LAW 

Mr.  Rabbit  was  hard  to  please  in  love  affairs. 
Those  upon  whom  his  eyes  fell  were  either  too 
ugly  or  too  poor,  and  in  some  cases  both.  At 
last  he  concluded  that  the  greatest  failure  in  the 
world  is  courting  that  does  not  end  in  a  wedding. 

He  arose  early  one  morning  and  sat  down  by 
the  roadside  to  think  over  the  different  flowers 
along  the  path  of  love  that  had  proven  thorns 
to  his  soul.  As  he  sat  there,  taking  them  up  and 
dismissing  one  by  one,  with  a  frown  on  his  face 
and  a  bachelor-like  sourness  in  his  soul,  he 
chanced  to  see  a  beautiful  maiden  tripping  over 
the  meadows.  As  soon  as  he  saw  that  she  was 
pretty,  he  believed  he  loved  her,  as  soon  as  he 
learned  that  her  father  was  rich,  he  knew  it. 

"O  soul,  my  poor  wounded  soul !  a  smile  from 
yon  creature  of  grace  and  beauty  would  cure  you. 
Let  us  haste  and  secure  the  remedy.  I  can  well 
afford  to  exchange  a  task  like  this  for  the  smiles 
of  so  pretty  a  wife  and  her  father's  pocket-book." 

Mr.  Rabbit  knew  his  only  stock  in  trade  was 
127 


128  NEGRO   TALES 

wit,  so  he  sharpened  this  and  visited  the  girl's  fa 
ther.  He  walked  up  to  the  old  gentleman  and 
said: 

"Good  morning,  sir.  My  name  is  Mr.  Rabbit. 
I  have  come  to  be  your  son-in-law,  and  your 
daughter  has  my  letter  of  introduction." 

The  old  gentleman  was  so  surprised  at  Mr. 
Rabbit's  words  he  did  not  call  his  daughter  to 
test  their  truthfulness.  He  admired  his  visitor's 
boldness  and  readiness  of  speech  and,  after  talk 
ing  awhile,  invited  him  out  to  breakfast.  Having 
learned  the  girl's  name  during  the  conversation, 
Rabbit  spoke  to  her  on  coming  out,  and  also  took 
her  by  the  hand.  Now,  he  carried  in  his  hand  a 
stamp  bearing  the  words  "I  propose." 

After  breakfast  the  old  gentleman  asked  his 
daughter  if  she  had  Mr.  Rabbit's  letter  of  intro 
duction,  and  she  answered  by  holding  up  her  hand. 
Then  he  asked  her  if  she  had  ever  met  him  be 
fore,  and  she  said  she  had  not.  Without  further 
ado  he  seized  Rabbit  by  the  throat  and  said: 

"My  dear  child,  this  whole  thing  has  been 
forced  upon  you.  Now,  how  shall  I  punish  the 
impudent  young  whelp?" 

"Why,  father,"  said  she  in  her  sweetest  tones, 
"let  both  of  us  punish  him  by  making  him  your 
son-in-law." 

Seeing  that  he  could  not  withstand  the  com 
bined  forces  of  Cupid,  his  only  daughter,  and  a 


MR.  RABBIT  SECURES  A  WIFE  129 

wily  lover,  the  old  gentleman  said:  "Well,  Mr. 
Rabbit,  you  may  have  the  girl  on  the  condition 
that  you  go  down  to  the  great  frog  settlement 
and  prove  that  you  are  master  of  all  the  frogs 
there.  This  must  be  done  by  to-morrow  at  twelve 
o'clock." 

"It  shall  be  done,"  said  Mr.  Rabbit. 

He  dressed  himself  as  strangely  as  possible, 
and,  taking  a  looking-glass  in  his  hand,  went  down 
to  the  frog  settlement.  He  stood  by  the  branch 
and  waved  the  glass  until  the  frogs  gathered 
around  him. 

"This  is  not  the  place,"  said  he.  "This  is  not 
the  place." 

"Yes,  it  is,"  said  an  old  frog.  "It  is  the  very 
place  that  has  been  here  all  the  time." 

Mr.  Rabbit  looked  again  and  said:  "It  is  the 
place,  sure  enough." 

"Didn't  I  tell  you  so?"  said  the  old  frog.  "If 
this  place  had  moved,  we  would  have  known  it." 

This  served  to  open  the  conversation.  While 
talking,  Rabbit  held  the  glass  so  the  frogs  could 
see  themselves.  He  told  them  it  was  a  soul-draw 
ing  machine,  and  that  by  looking  into  it  the  soul 
would  come  out  of  the  body  and  go  behind  the 
glass. 

"Do  you  know,"  said  Rabbit,  "why  Mr.  Snake 
swallows  so  many  of  you?  It  is  simply  to  get 
your  souls.  As  the  soul  is  in  the  body,  he  must 


130  NEGRO   TALES 

swallow  the  body,  also.  Let  him  see  that  the  soul 
is  out  of  the  body,  and  he  will  no  longer  bother 
the  body,  but  go  after  the  soul.  If  the  soul  is 
behind  the  glass,  he  can't  get  it.  So  you  see,  gen 
tlemen,  every  frog  should  have  a  glass.  All  he 
has  to  do  is  to  carry  the  glass  with  him,  and,  when 
Mr.  Snake  comes,  just  hold  it  up  so  as  to  see 
himself.  Mr.  Snake,  seeing  the  soul  out  of  his 
reach,  will  scamper  off." 

All  agreed  with  Rabbit,  but  wanted  to  know 
where  glasses  sufficient  for  all  could  be  had. 

"Ah,"  said  Rabbit,  "that  is  my  business  here. 
I  have  come  to  build  a  factory  for  making  them. 
All  you  have  to  do  is  to  turn  the  wheel  I  will 
make.  This  wheel  will  turn  the  mill  and  out  will 
come  the  glasses.  There  will  be  no  charges." 

The  frogs  agreed  to  turn  the  wheel  as  long  as 
needed.  Then  Rabbit  built  a  watermill  for  grind 
ing  wheat  and  corn,  and  put  the  wheel  above  the 
water.  The  frogs  knew  no  better. 

"In  order  to  turn  the  wheel,"  said  Mr.  Rab 
bit,  "you  frogs  must  be  divided  into  as  many 
bands  as  there  are  paddles  to  the  wheel.  The 
first  band  must  jump  upon  a  paddle  and  force  it 
down,  then  jump  into  the  water  and  swim  to  shore 
ready  for  the  next  turn.  Each  band  must  do  so 
in  turn,  and  the  wheel  will  go  round.  There  are 
several  things  you  must  do.  You  must  not  be 
seen  until  I  give  the  signal.  Then  you  must  come, 


MR.   RABBIT  SECURES  A  WIFE  131 

start  the  wheel,  and  keep  it  going  until  I  tell  you 
to  stop.  At  the  second  signal  you  must  bellow  as 
loudly  as  you  can,  or  your  souls  will  be  so  long  in 
getting  behind  the  glass  that  Mr.  Snake  will  catch 
them.  On  the  third  signal  you  must  dance  as 
you  come  around,  or  the  glass  will  be  easily 
broken." 

All  agreed,  and  said  there  should  not  be  a  sin 
gle  hitch  in  the  programme. 

Then  Rabbit  sent  for  his  father-in-law  to  come, 
and  bring  his  wheat  with  him.  He  did  so;  but 
laughed  at  Rabbit's  mill-wheel. 

"The  wheat  will  be  ground,"  said  Rabbit,  ap 
proaching  the  water  and  giving  the  signal  agreed 
upon  with  the  frogs. 

At  the  first  signal  the  frogs  came  by  hundreds 
and  sent  the  wheel  over  and  over  again  in  great 
haste.  At  the  second  signal  they  began  to  bel 
low;  and,  at  the  third,  to  dance.  This  procedure 
was  continued,  and  in  a  short  time  the  wheat  was 
all  ground. 

"Now,"  said  Mr.  Rabbit,  "I  am  not  a  member 
of  the  family  as  yet,  but  see  what  a  means  of  in 
come  I  am.  How  will  it  be  further  on?  By  the 
way,  my  father-in-law-to-be,  how  do  you  like  the 
wedding-march  my  slaves  are  playing  for  me?" 

"Very  well,  my  son  Rabbit,  very  well,"  said  the 
old  gentleman.  "Come,  let  us  have  the  cere 
mony."  They  then  proceeded  to  the  magistrate, 


i32  NEGRO   TALES 

when  Mr.  Rabbit  and  the  young  lady  were  duly 
wedded. 

What  became  of  the  mill?  Mr.  Rabbit  cared 
nothing  for  a  cheap  affair  like  that  when  he  had 
succeeded  in  securing  a  pretty  wife  and  rich  fa 
ther-in-law. 

What  about  the  frogs  ? 

There  is  no  telling  how  long  they  turned  the 
wheel,  bellowed,  and  danced;  or  how  they  got 
the  glasses  from  between  the  millstones. 


THE  LITTLE  BOY  AND  MISTER  DARK 

My  name  is  Little  Boy,  an'  I'se  gwine  ter  tell 
you  er  story  'bout  myself  an'  Mister  Dark.  Once 
'twuz  night,  an'  my  Mammy  an'  my  Daddy  an' 
my  dawg  an'  my  cat  an'  myself  wuz  in  de  big 
cabin-room.  My  Daddy,  he  dun  skinned  de  rab 
bit  fer  de  breakfust  time,  an'  my  Mammy,  she 
dun  stirred  up  de  hoecakes  fer  ter  go  'long  wid 
de  rabbit,  an'  I  dun  make  up  my  mind  ter  sleep 
till  I  gits  er  appertite  fer  bofe  de  cakes  an'  de 
rabbit.  Meanwhile  my  cat,  she  says:  "Meaw, 
meaw!"  an'  my  dawg's  tail  says:  "I  whop,  whop 
on  de  floor." 

Atter  while  my  Mammy,  she  snored  an'  my 
Daddy,  he  snored,  an'  de  cat  meawed,  an'  de 
dawg's  tail  whopped  on  de  floor,  an'  I  got  so 
skeered  I  could  hardly  keep  comp'ny  wid  my  own 
bref. 

Den  sump'in'  happened.  Mister  Wind,  he 
broke  down  de  door  an'  roared  in  an'  licked  up 
de  candle  light.  Den  I  shet  my  eyes  an'  listened 
fer  my  cat,  but  didn't  heah  no  meaw.  Mister 
Rain,  he  spattered  down  de  chimbly  an'  swallowed 

133 


134  NEGRO   TALES 

up  de  fire.  Den  I  put  my  hands  over  my  face  an' 
listened  fer  my  dawg,  but  didn't  heah  no  tail  flop 
ping  on  de  floor.  Atter  bein'  skeered  er  long 
time  I  spunked  up  an'  opened  my  eyes,  an'  dere 
wuz  Mister  Dark  es  big  es  de  cabin-room. 

Atter  er  nudder  while  I  spunked  up  erg'in  an' 
says  I:  "Mister  Dark,  whar  does  you  live?" 

Mister  Dark  says:  "I  lives  everywhar  when 
de  sun's  in  bed."  Den  I  asks  him  a  r'al  spunky 
question:  "Mister  Dark,  how  big  is  you?" 

Mister  Dark  says:  "I'se  es  big  es  de  whole 
world  when  de  sun's  kivered  up  in  bed." 

Den  I  says:  "Dis  cabin-room's  too  little  fer 
you.  Jes  leave  it  fer  us." 

Mister  Dark,  he  says:  "I'se  gwine  ter  stay 
heah  an'  have  sum  fun  outer  you.  Ef  you's 
skeered,  Little  Boy,  jes'  call  on  yo'  Daddy's  snore 
an'  yo'  Mammy's  dreams,  an'  yo'  cat's  meaw  an' 
yo'  little  dawg's  floppin'  tail.  You  must  read  me 
a  story.  Heah's  er  book.  Heah's  specticle- 
glasses  fer  de  dark.  Now  read  an'  let  de  fun 
begin." 

I  shakes  my  head,  an'  den  I  seemed  jes'  like 
er  big  piece  o'  gumbo.  I  wuz  tall  an'  den  short, 
an'  in  an'  den  out  an'  square  an'  den  round.  I 
says  ter  myself:  "Ef  I  ends  er  foot  ball,  Mister 
Dark  will  have  a  great  big  kick  cum'in'."  All  at 
once  I  felt  de  book  in  my  hand,  de  specticle- 
glasses  on  my  nose,  an'  I  wuz  tryin'  ter  read.  I 


LITTLE  BOY  AND  MR.   DARK    135 

could  read,  an'  den  I  couldn't.  I'd  call  de  fust 
wud,  an'  den  dat  wud  would  jump  on  all  de  udder 
wuds  es  I  cum  ter  'em,  an'  I'd  jes'  call  dat  wud 
right  on  frum  de  top  ter  de  bottom  o'  de  page. 

"Looker-heah,  Little  Boy,"  said  Mister  Dark, 
"you  jes'  cyarn't  read.  Let's  all  laf."  Den  Mis 
ter  Dark  chuckled  er  laf,  an'  Mister  Rain  spat 
tered  er  laf,  an'  Mister  Wind  roared  er  laf,  an' 
my  cat  meawed  er  laf,  an'  my  little  dawg  flopped 
er  laf  wid  his  tail,  an'  I  lafed  jes'  er  little  teeny 
bit,  an'  I  wanted  it  back  erg'in. 

Mister  Dark  made  er  funny  little  noise,  an' 
whut  does  you  reckon  happened?  My  cat  wuz 
on  one  knee,  an'  my  dawg  on  de  udder.  De  spec- 
ticle-glasses  wuz  on  dey  noses,  an'  dey  read  every 
wud  in  dat  book.  Now  what  does  you  reckon 
dem  wuds  wuz  erbout?  Dey  wuz  erbout  dat  wud 
dat  played  leap  frog  frum  de  top  ter  de  bottom 
o'  dat  page  when  I  tried  ter  read,  an'  erbout  dat 
rabbit  an'  dem  hoecakes,  an'  how  I  wuz  gwine  ter 
oversleep  myself,  an'  how  my  mouf  would  wotter 
when  I  seed  de  rabbit's  bones  picked  clean. 

Den  I  said  ter  Mister  Dark:  "Mister  Dark, 
you's  pokin'  fun  at  me,  an'  you's  makin'  my  cat 
meaw  fun  at  me  an'  my  dawg  flop  fun  at  me  wid 
his  tail;  but  I'se  gwine  ter  beat  you  in  de  end  fer 
I'se  gwine  ter  sleep." 

"  'Scuse  me  fer  readin',"  meawed  my  cat,  an' 
jumped  down  frum  my  right  knee. 


136  NEGRO   TALES 

"  'Scuse  me  fer  readin',"  barked  my  dawg,  an' 
jumped  down  frum  my  left  knee. 

"  'Scuse  us  too,"  mumbled  de  book  an'  de 
specticle-glasses. 

"Now,  my  Little  Boy,"  said  Mister  Dark,  "ef 
you'll  jes'  shet  yo'  eyes  an*  open  yo'  mouf  you'll 
'scuse  me  too  to-morrow  mawnin'." 

I  closed  my  eyes  an'  opened  my  mouf  an'  went 
ter  sleep.  I  sleeped  an'  sleeped  an'  sleeped,  an' 
at  last  I  waked  up.  Mister  Daylight  wuz  dere 
as  big  as  de  cabin-room,  an'  my  Mammy  wuz 
frying  de  hoecakes,  an'  my  Daddy  wuz  stewin' 
de  rabbit,  an'  when  I  got  all  de  glue  outen  my 
eyelids  I  sed:  "Mammy,  I'se  bin  erway,  an'  Fse 
hongry." 

"Give  dat  chile  er  cake,"  says  Mammy. 

"An'  sum  rabbit,"  says  Daddy. 

"An'  give  my  cat  an'  dawg  sum  too,"  says  I. 

Den  we  all  eat  an'  eat  an'  eat,  an'  all  at  once 
Mammy  says:  "Look-er-heah,  chile,  you  dun 
growed  er  whole  pound  last  night." 

"Yas'm,"  says  I,  "an'  it  wuz  dis  way.  While 
you  all  wuz  er  snorin'  Mister  Dark  cumed  in  an' 
tried  ter  skeer  me,  but  I  jes'  spunked  up  an' 
closed  my  eyes  an'  opened  my  mouf  an'  swal 
lowed  Mister  Dark  right  down  an'  went  ter 
sleep,  an'  course  I'se  bigger." 

"Give  dat  smart  chile  er  nudder  cake,"  says 
Mammy. 


LITTLE  BOY  AND  MR.  DARK    137 

Daddy  puts  de  cake  in  my  mouf,  an1  I  starts 
ter  swallow  it  'fore  I  thinks  ter  say:  "I  thank 
you."  Den  I  tries  ter  say  it  an'  swallow  at  de 
same  time,  but  I  gits  choked.  Den  I  swallows  an' 
swallows  an'  swallows  jes'  dis  way  (Imitate  swal 
lowing),  an'  at  last  I  swallows  it  down.  Den  I 
reaches  fer  en  nudder  cake,  but  it  ain't  dere. 

My  cat,  she  meawed,  an'  my  dawg's  tail 
whopped  on  de  floor,  but  I  ain't  gwine  ter  tell  no 
more  stories,  no  I  ain't,  till  my  Mammy  makes 
more  hoecakes,  an'  my  Daddy  stews  more  rabbit, 
an1  de  great  big  Mister  Dark  cums  back  ter  make 
me  grow  an'  give  me  er  appertite. 


OBSERVATION 

"Madam,"  said  the  negro  principal  of  a  pub 
lic  school  to  an  old  negro  woman  who  was  wash 
ing,  "I  wish  your  boy  to  attend  my  school." 

"Whose  boy?"  asked  the  old  woman  as  she 
straightened  up  and  wiped  the  suds  from  her 
arms. 

"Your  boy,  madam." 

"Well,  ef  he's  my  boy,  I  reckon  I'll  look  atter 
him." 

She  placed  one  hand  on  the  rim  of  the  tub  and 
resumed  washing  with  the  other. 

Every  few  seconds  she  would  change  her  posi 
tion,  allowing  each  hand  a  rest  period.  She 
would  also  change  the  pitch  of  a  negro  melody 
she  was  singing,  accordingly. 

"  'Fesser,"  said  she,  "is  you  still  waitin'  ?" 

"I  am,  madam." 

"  'Fesser,  you  cyarn't  git  dis  boy." 

"Madam,  I'll  stay  and  argue  with  you." 

"I  won't  argue  wid  you,  'fesser.  I'se  got  ter 
argue  wid  dese  suds.  Does  you  heah?" 

138 


OBSERVATION  139 

"Your  boy,  madam,  is  running  wild." 
*  'Fesser,  you  don't  need  ter  run.     You  kin 
jes'  walk.     I'se  mighty  perlite,  but  does  you  see 
dat  gate?" 

The  principal  started  toward  the  gate.  In 
passing  an  ant-hill  he  walked  around  it.  As  he 
reached  the  corner  of  the  house  a  large  fierce  dog 
sprang  at  him.  He  spoke  to  the  dog,  and  patted 
its  head.  The  dog  wagged  its  tail  and  followed 
him  to  the  gate.  After  much  trouble  he  opened 
and  closed  the  gate  and  started  off  at  a  brisk 
pace. 

"  'Fesser!  'fessje.r!"  cried  the  old  woman,  "you 
kin  hab  dis  boy.  Come  back  an*  git  him  right 


now." 


The  principal  returned  and  asked  the  old 
woman  what  had  converted  her. 

"It  was  dem  ways  of  yourn,  'fesser.  You's 
got  er  mighty  good  heart  in  you,  'kase  you  walked 
erround  dem  ants.  Dat's  jes'  de  heart  I  wants 
ter  beat  fer  my  boy.  Dat  dog  bites  most  folks, 
but  you  jes'  charmed  all  de  fight  outen  him.  My 
boy's  got  er  lot  of  fight  an'  some  meanness  in 
him,  but  I  sees  you  kin  charm  dem  out.  Most 
folks  leaves  dat  gate  open,  but  you  jes'  kept  on 
till  you  closed  it.  I  knows  you'll  keep  at  dis  boy 
till  you  makes  er  man  outen  him.  Heah's  de 
boy,  'fesser.  Jes'  take  him  erlong." 


i4o  NEGRO   TALES 

As  the  principal  and  boy  walked  in  the  street 
the  old  woman  stood  at  the  gate  and  said:  "Jes' 
look  at  dat  boy  of  mine;  he's  walkin'  lack  de 
'fesser  erready." 


THE  BOY  AND  THE  IDEAL 

Once  upon  a  time  a  Mule,  a  Hog,  a  Snake, 
and  a  Boy  met.  Said  the  Mule:  "I  eat  and 
labor  that  I  may  grow  strong  in  the  heels.  It 
is  fine  to  have  heels  so  gifted.  My  heels  make 
people  cultivate  distance." 

Said  the  Hog:  "I  eat  and  labor  that  I  may 
grow  strong  in  the  snout.  It  is  fine  to  have  a  fine 
snout.  I  keep  people  watching  for  my  snout." 

"No  exchanging  heels  for  snouts,"  broke  in  the 
Mule. 

"No,"  answered  the  Hog;  "snouts  are  naturally 
above  heels." 

Said  the  Snake:  "I  eat  to  live,  and  live  to  cul 
tivate  my  sting.  The  way  people  shun  me  shows 
my  greatness.  Beget  stings,  comrades,  and  stings 
will  beget  glory." 

Said  the  Boy:  "There  is  a  star  in  my  life  like 
unto  a  star  in  the  sky.  I  eat  and  labor  that  I  may 
think  aright  and  feel  aright.  These  rounds  will 
conduct  me  to  my  star.  Oh,  inviting  star!" 

"I  am  not  so  certain  of  that,"  said  the  Mule. 

141 


142  NEGRO   TALES 

"I  have  noticed  your  kind  and  ever  see  some  of 
myself  in  them.    Your  star  is  in  the  distance." 

The  Boy  answered  by  smelling  a  flower  and 
listening  to  the  song  of  a  bird.  The  Mule  looked 
at  him  and  said:  uHe  is  all  tenderness  and  care. 
The  true  and  the  beautiful  have  robbed  me  of  a 
kinsman.  His  star  is  near." 

Said  the  Boy:  "I  approach  my  star." 
"I  am  not  so  certain  of  that,"  interrupted  the 
Hog.     "I  have  noticed  your  kind  and  I  ever  see 
some  of  myself  in  them.     Your  star  is  a  delu 


sion." 


The  Boy  answered  by  painting  the  flower  and 
setting  the  notes  of  the  bird's  song  to  music. 

The  Hog  looked  at  the  boy  and  said:  "His 
soul  is  attuned  by  nature.  The  meddler  in  him  is 
slain." 

"I  can  all  but  touch  my  star,"  cried  the  Boy. 

"I  am  not  so  certain  of  that,"  remarked  the 
Snake.  "I  have  watched  your  kind  and  ever  see 
some  of  myself  in  them.  Stings  are  nearer  than 
stars." 

The  Boy  answered  by  meditating  upon  the  pic 
ture  and  music.  The  Snake  departed,  saying  that 
stings  and  stars  cannot  keep  company. 

The  Boy  journeyed  on,  ever  led  by  the  star. 
Some  distance  away  the  Mule  was  bemoaning 
the  presence  of  his  heels  and  trying  to  rid  him 
self  of  them  by  kicking  a  tree.  The  Hog  was 


THE  BOY  AND  THE  IDEAL      143 

dividing  his  time  between  looking  into  a  brook 
and  rubbing  his  snout  on  a  rock  to  shorten  it. 
The  Snake  lay  dead  of  its  own  bite.  The  Boy 
journeyed  on,  led  by  an  ever  inviting  star. 


THE  NEGRO  AND  THE  AUTOMOBILE 

A  white  man  wished  to  sell  an  old-time  negro 
an  automobile.  To  this  end  he  took  him  a  spin 
around  the  town.  Soon  something  was  in  the 
way,  and  that  "honk-honk!"  warning  was 
sounded. 

"Boss,"  said  the  negro,  "I  don'  see  no  wil' 
geese  'roun'  heah." 

As  the  automobile  increased  its  speed  the  negro 
braced  himself  with  his  feet  and  gripped  the  seat 
with  both  hands. 

"Is  the  machine  running  too  fast?"  asked  the 
white  man. 

"I  don'  keer  how  fast  you  runs,  but  I  does  ob 
jects  ter  flying,"  said  the  negro. 

The  automobile  was  stopped  and  the  white  man 
got  out.  The  "works"  continued  with  that 
"chook-er-chook"  sound.  The  negro,  seeing  that 
the  wheels  were  not  moving,  sprang  out  ex 
citedly. 

"Will  you  buy  the  automobile?"  asked  the 
white  man. 

.144 


NEGRO  AND   AUTOMOBILE      145 

"No,  suh,"  said  the  negro.  "I  don'  buy  no 
thing  lack  dat  whut  flies  when  hit's  running,  an' 
whut  runs  when  hit's  standing  still.  No,  suh! 
Good-by!  I'se  gone!" 


FAITH  IN  THE  WHITE  FOLKS 

It  was  night,  and  Elm  Street  was  dimly 
lighted.  From  a  negro  eating-house  that  opened 
into  the  street  came  sounds  of  harsh  voices  and 
the  rattling  of  pans.  Rachel,  the  mulatto,  who 
believed  everything  a  white  person  did  or  said, 
and  who  tested  all  information  with:  "Did  de 
white  folks  say  so?"  was  tugging  at  her  little 
grandson,  who  was  selling  papers. 

"I  can't  sell  papers  here,  grandma." 

"Why,  son?;' 

"The  folks  in  the  eating-house  won't  let  me.'* 

"Did  de  white  folks  say  so?" 

"No,  ma'am.  This  route  was  given  to  an 
other  boy." 

"Did  de  white  folks  do  it?" 

Just  then  some  one  threw  a  loaf  of  bread  in 
the  eating-house.  It  passed  through  the  door  and 
struck  Rachel.  Her  little  grandson  pulled  her 
apron  and  asked:  "Did  the  white  folks  do  that 
too?" 

"No,  child.  Dis  is  de  way  of  it.  Dis  bread 
will  fatten  de  chickens.  De  chickens  will  sharpen 

146 


FAITH  IN  THE  WHITE  FOLKS  147 

de  white  folks'  wits.  De  white  folks,  dey'll  boss 
de  niggers;  and  de  niggers,  dey'll  be  niggers  still. 
Come  on  now,  honey  child,  an'  bring  de  bread 
erlong  wid  you." 


THE  CANE  AND  THE  UMBRELLA 

A  man  who  had  never  seen  a  cane  or  an  um 
brella  chanced  to  be  at  a  sale  and  bought  one  of 
each.  He  held  the  umbrella  over  him  and  tapped 
upon  the  ground  with  the  cane  as  he  walked.  The 
wind  rose  suddenly.  He  boarded  a  car  quickly 
without  lowering  the  umbrella.  Away  went  the 
car,  and  away  went  the  umbrella. 

He  alighted  from  the  car  after  riding  several 
squares.  He  was  tapping  the  ground  with  his 
cane  as  he  walked. 

"How  are  you?"  said  a  man  he  had  not  seen 
for  years,  and  extended  his  hand. 

"How  are  you,  old  friend?"  he  replied  and  of 
fered  the  hand  that  held  the  cane,  giving  his 
friend  a  severe  whack. 

"You  rascal!"  cried  his  friend,  and  knocked 
him  down. 

In  falling  he  broke  his  cane  and  alighted  near 
the  fragments  of  his  umbrella. 

"Cane  and  umbrella,"  said  he,  "you  are  the 
cause  of  all  my  trouble." 


0-7*0*  3/ 


